Etched Into My Skin
by anxioussquirrel
Summary: Across the world, names start appearing on people's bodies; it hasn't become a big news item yet, and no one really knows what they mean. Some time after Kurt transfers to Dalton, while he and Blaine are still platonic, they both wake up with their best friend's name written somewhere on their body in the other's handwriting. Soulmates AU.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: **__Okay, here's a thing: I usually don't post WIPs. But here's a WIP. _

_It's a side project I've been working on lately, and I decided to share as I go. The story is based on a prompt from the glee-kink-meme, and it will be long. "It's Not Babysitting" kind of long, maybe. It's fluff and romance and angst and smut all mixed together, and it's sort of canon-compliant with added twists, starting in the middle of season 2. Basically, boys in love who also happen to be soulmates, in a world that's only just starting to discover and understand the whole "name on your skin" thing. _

_I plan to update at least once a week, but I can't promise I won't slip every now and then. It's a side project, after all. If you decide to join the ride, I hope you have as much fun reading as I have writing it :)_

* * *

CHAPTER 1

The first time Kurt Hummel noticed anything strange about his left collarbone, it was the day after that memorable afternoon in the Dalton common room when he and Blaine had sung the most perfect version of _Baby It's Cold Outside _that could ever exist.

He was sitting at his vanity, finishing his evening moisturizing routine, when something unfamiliar drew his attention to the open collar of his black pajama shirt. A light brown spot was only really visible because of the good lighting and the contrast with his fair skin, and he could have easily dismissed it as a new freckle or a mole he hadn't noticed before, if he hadn't moved the fabric aside to have a closer look.

There, next to the first innocent-looking spot, were at least a dozen others – just as light, ranging from small to tiny and neatly spaced within a spread of skin.

They _could_ be freckles – if it was summer and Kurt hadn't been so conscientious about applying sunblock. Or if they weren't grouped so tightly together in one particular area. To be certain, Kurt slid off his pajamas and scanned the rest of his body, looking for similar occurrences anywhere else, but there were none, just that one place right under the ridge of his left collarbone. That was definitely unusual; probably something to consult with a doctor, and soon. Suspicious brown spots on the skin that appeared all of a sudden were no laughing matter.

Kurt's mind was filled with anxious thoughts that night, and his fingers wandered to the collarbone again and again as he was trying to fall asleep. The skin there wasn't any different to touch than the surrounding area, and it wasn't sore or itching. Still, the freckles – or whatever it was – were there, while just last night there was nothing but smooth skin. He'd seen them with his own eyes.

Unless...

He jumped out of bed and flicked on his vanity lamp. Of course, why hadn't he thought of this? Grabbing a moist toilette, he rubbed at the affected bit of flesh. But the spots didn't disappear – if anything, they only looked more pronounced against the skin that turned pink from his ministrations.

Resigned and slightly scared, Kurt returned to bed. He'd have to show the problem to Carole in the morning. Ever since the wedding, she'd taken over the health department in their household. She'd probably set a doctor's appointment for him, and whatever it turned out to be, they'd take things from there. For now, all he could do was try to sleep.

Kurt's dreams that night were filled with visions of hospitals and surgeries, scars and fear, the words _skin cancer_ hanging overhead, threatening. He woke up at dawn, exhausted, and lay in bed for a moment longer, huffing with annoyance. He was probably overreacting, and the fact that he had more reasons than many, after seeing his mom wither away all those years ago, didn't make it any more reasonable. Now, in the light of day, it seemed stupid to worry quite so much. They were just a bunch of stupid spots, probably some allergic reaction or a weird rash. Nothing serious.

Kurt rolled out of bed and strode right to the mirror, determined to confirm his newfound conviction. He pushed aside the shirt – and froze, his jaw dropping.

There were no spots on his skin anymore.

Instead, light brown lines traced neat letters under his collarbone – letters that spelled one very, _very_ familiar name, in handwriting that he recognized instantly, even in its mirrored reflection.

_Blaine Anderson_

* * *

The first time Blaine Anderson noticed the faint letters curving around his left hipbone, it was two days after Christmas and he was just wiping come off his skin.

He was still dazed and breathless from the intensity of his orgasm, so when he saw what the letters spelled, he just shook his head and closed his eyes, wondering if it was possible he was hallucinating as a result of coming his brains out. Because let's be honest, what was the chance of the name of his best friend randomly appearing on his body right after he finally surrendered to the temptation and let his mind wander where it probably shouldn't – to said friend's pink lips and his slender fingers, to the perfect lines of his long legs and the way his shoulders filled the regulatory white uniform shirts?

Another moment passed with sleep softening the edges of his consciousness, but then Blaine frowned. Wait, what was the chance of _any _writing randomly appearing on his skin when he – or anyone else – didn't put it there?

He opened his eyes and raised on his elbows to look at his hipbone. Sure enough, the letters were still there, sepia-colored and curling neatly along the upper half of his hipbone.

_Kurt Hummel_

What was even more curious, they were in Kurt's own handwriting – it looked as if Kurt simply signed his name on Blaine's skin. Except in the last week the nearest Kurt had been to Blaine was in his very vivid imagination. And even if he was right here, his hands would be nowhere near Blaine's bare hips. They were just friends, after all.

What the hell was going on?

* * *

Google was a man's best friend.

It was merely an hour since Kurt had discovered the name – _Blaine's _name – on his skin, and already he was more grateful for the miracle of the internet than ever before. A quick, rather desperate search of "names on skin" didn't provide him with a definitive answer about what was going on with him or why, but it gave him something almost as good: the knowledge that he wasn't alone. Apparently, there were people all over the globe suddenly sprouting names in different areas of their bodies, and their numbers were steadily growing.

The few serious articles Kurt managed to find among dozens of blog posts and discussion threads claimed that the phenomenon started about five months ago. At first it was only a few dozen reported cases, not just in the United States, but in other countries, too. Doctors and scientists got interested and soon research started, aimed to discover the cause and consequences of the unusual marks.

But the only thing that had been determined so far was that the writing didn't seem to affect people's skin or their overall health in any detrimental way. The letters weren't formed by any kind of growth, either malicious or benign, but by a simple change of pigmentation, very similar to freckles. The writing tended to grow slightly darker within days of first appearing, but only by a tone or two, which made it clearly visible against skin, but much lighter than a tattoo. No one knew how or why the marks formed, or what made a body produce the shape of a particular name. It was all one big mystery.

As for the meaning of the names, the scientists were drawing a blank. It was more a question for philosophers, it seemed. What could be the reason of random names appearing on people's skin? Theories abounded, each less believable than the previous one. Some believed it was a name you held in your previous incarnation. Others stated the name signified a person who could play important role in your life. Many people thought it was a completely random occurrence, an annoying skin condition that had no significance whatsoever.

Except the names weren't always random. As the number of those affected kept growing (it was currently estimated to be well into the thousands), there were some who, just like Kurt, were developing names of people they knew. It could be a life partner or a friend, or someone known just casually. This fact bred other theories, stating that the name on your body belonged to a person who was somehow closest to you – either in your thoughts or physical proximity – when the mark formation started. Or it may signify someone you had or could have deep a emotional connection with.

This theory spoke to Kurt the most. He did have a connection with Blaine, after all – and deeper than his friend knew. Because while he admitted it to himself, he was nowhere near ready to tell Blaine, or show him, for that matter, that he was falling in love with him – and had been from the moment they first met.

Kurt switched off his computer and went back to the mirror. Now that the mark was no longer filling him with dread, he had to admit it was almost... pretty. The warm shade of brown looked good against his fair skin and knowing that he bore the name of the boy he really, really liked mere inches above his heart filled Kurt with warm affection.

Whatever the reason and meaning of the mark, one thing was certain: he wouldn't be showing it to anyone, or even talking about it anytime soon. Not even to his family or his friends. There would be too many questions and the last thing he needed was for Blaine to learn about it and freak out. He was the closest friend Kurt had ever had, the only person in his life who really, truly understood him. Losing that just because Kurt's body decided to pick up some weird new trend was too big a risk.

No, he'd just wait and see what happened next.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

It was almost Christmas – the first Christmas they would be spending with Carole and Finn – and there was plenty to do at the Hummel-Hudson household. Everything had to be perfect. But even as Kurt threw himself into shopping, decorating and planning the heart-healthy Christmas menu with Carole, he found his thoughts returning to Blaine again and again. True, it was nothing new for him to think of Blaine multiple times throughout the day, but usually being busy put a stop to this. This time, however, the thoughts seemed to be coming out of nowhere. Suddenly Kurt was enveloped in a mist of warm feelings in the middle of the dairy aisle at the supermarket, or spacing out with tinsel in his hand, or blushing when Finn came in and innocently stated that it was cold outside.

Damn, he really needed to get himself under control. It was just because of the fresh mark on his skin. He couldn't forget about it for a minute, fingers sneaking up to touch it through the fabric of his shirt so often that Carole finally asked if there was something wrong with his shoulder.

It felt almost creepy in a way, like having a tattoo of your crush's name done secretly, without asking for their permission. Of course, Kurt would never do that, and he couldn't be held responsible for what his body came up with by itself, could he? But the very awareness of the mark sitting there just like that, hidden and innocent, was making his heart beat faster. Add in the very fresh memories of that duet in the Dalton common room, with Blaine's eyes so sparkly and his lovely lips so close, the flirty atmosphere of the song permeating the air, and – well, Kurt really had a hard time not thinking about his best friend.

His distractedness didn't escape his family's attentive eye, so in the end he faked a headache and escaped to his bedroom as soon as the dishes were done after dinner. He spent the rest of the evening trying to find something to watch that wouldn't make him think of Blaine.

It proved impossible.

He took another long look at the name on his skin as he was undressing for the night. It was still there, of course, and already it was slightly darker, the edges of each letter more defined, final. Kurt brushed his fingertips over the mark and smiled.

* * *

The night that followed was weird. Of course, it was only natural that he dreamt of Blaine when he spent so much time during the day thinking about him, but those were dreams unlike any he'd ever had before. They were eerily realistic and strangely plot-less – just a montage of short, silent flashes, all starring him and Blaine. What was even stranger was that Kurt remembered them vividly upon waking up. They didn't disappear or even fade from his memory the way dreams tend to do when he got up and proceeded through his morning routine. Even as he stood under the spray of hot water in the shower, the pictures from the dream were still flashing before his closed eyes:

_He and Blaine singing together on a stage, both in Dalton uniforms, eyes trained on each other, with the rest of the Warblers in the background._

_Sitting opposite each other in Lima Bean, sans uniforms this time, Blaine's face full of so much affection that Kurt's heart fluttered every time he recalled the scene._

_Laughing together on a blanket spread on the grass, the sun high and bright, Kurt's head in Blaine's lap._

_Sitting next to each other in the McKinley choir room, an adorable bowtie around Blaine's neck, their hands joined and resting on Kurt's thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world._

_Dancing together at what looked like prom, close and unafraid among other people, Blaine's hair ridiculously curly and tickling Kurt's cheek as he leaned closer to brush a soft kiss against the side of Kurt's neck – a kiss that even now, in the light of day, made Kurt shiver as he recalled it._

God, he was in over his head, wasn't he? It had never been this bad before, not even with Finn. His brain was out to torment him, not letting him forget about Blaine even for a moment and conjuring fantasies that were so real and detailed there was no chance he'd get them out of his head. Already it felt awkward to text Blaine like he usually did every day – innocent, friendly chatting that now felt too suggestive, too revealing, like every word could somehow tell his friend: _hey, I've got your name on my skin and vivid pictures of us as a couple in my head_.

So he didn't text all day, but it only made things worse when Blaine called him in the evening, innocently asking if Kurt was mad at him for some reason. The way his voice seemed to slide right down Kurt's spine in a warm caress, causing a delicious shiver, was new, too.

It was _ridiculous_. And very hot. And frustrating as hell.

Kurt figured it would pass, he just needed a few days. Obviously his imagination, vivid to begin with, got too excited by the mark on his skin.

Except days passed, Christmas came and went, and the dreams persisted like the mark on his body. It wasn't like that first night, but every morning there were at least a few new pictures to add to his collection. Kurt's favorite so far was the shortest glimpse of the two of them lying on a bed together, fully dressed minus a few outer layers, so close their foreheads and noses touched. His hand was on Blaine's shoulder and Blaine's on his wrist, and there was a look of deep, quiet contentment on both of their faces. It made him blush, the way his fantasies seemed to gravitate towards intimacy, but it felt like such a beautiful moment. Which wasn't all that strange – of course his imagination would create pictures that were perfectly suited for Kurt's romantic mind.

And then, two days after Christmas, around midnight, another strange thing occurred, jarring him out of half-asleep bliss in the warm cocoon of the comforter.

Suddenly, without warning, Kurt's loose, relaxed body tensed and his back arched off the bed, an explosion of pleasure shooting through his belly, so intense he moaned loud and shameless before hastily biting on his knuckles to muffle the rest of the sounds. His hips kept canting up into the comforter, the delightful heat pulsing for a long while before he started coming down, his body tingling all over.

God, what _was_ that?

No, okay, he knew exactly what it was. It wasn't like he'd never had an orgasm before, though probably never quite that intense but... how? Why? He hadn't touched himself, hadn't been turned on. He hadn't even been thinking of anything sexy, not even Blaine, for god's sake. Well, _now _he was, and ugh, he was turning into a creepy, creepy person. His cock ached at the thought and –

What?

Now that the dazed feeling gave way to more or less clear thinking, Kurt realized that he was hard, straining against the fabric of his pajama pants. His _dry_ pajama pants, no telltale wet spots detected. So... it was an orgasm, but... not? How was that possible? He'd never heard about anything like that before. Then again, it wasn't like he read or talked about sex that much.

It took a long time to fall asleep that night, especially since he refused to take care of his raging erection in any way other than willing it away. He drew a line at jerking off to the images of Blaine in his head. He wouldn't be _that guy_, dammit.

Of course, his imagination decided to punish him for that, and when he finally fell asleep, Kurt's dreams were filled with Blaine's lips and his hands, with kisses and casual touches that turned into not-that-casual, that turned into a flash of Blaine on his knees, reaching to undo the buttons of Kurt's fly with dark, hooded eyes and red, kiss-swollen lips.

Kurt woke up a very, _very _frustrated boy the next morning.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you so much for the warm reception of this story and for each and every one of your lovely comments! I tend to steal away every free minute I have and use it for writing so I suck at answering comments, but please know that I really appreciate them. There's plenty of flailing and kickyfeeting involved :)_

_For those who asked: my nickname on tumblr (as well as Livejournal and scarves&coffee) is anxioussquirrel too. Feel free to come over :)_

* * *

CHAPTER 3

If Blaine thought that giving in to the temptation would finally stop the steady stream of persistent, half-chaste thoughts about Kurt, he was sorely mistaken. He fell asleep thinking about Kurt, only to _dream_ about Kurt and woke up flushed, overheated and panting, because those dreams? They were nowhere _near_ chaste. In fact, some bits were as erotic as they could get without being pornographic, not to mention so realistic that he still felt a little dazed with the intensity of it.

How exactly did his imagination know the exact shape – and _feel – _of Kurt's ass in his tightest pants, when Blaine had never really allowed himself to look? How did it come up with the breathtaking visions of Kurt's face as he was slowly falling apart, Blaine's hand stroking him through the thick denim of those pants? It was too much to know, even just from a dream, what Kurt's lips would taste like, how soft and warm they would be against his, and how they would feel, and look, wrapped around Blaine's –

Oh god, he needed a cold shower, STAT.

It was halfway through rolling out of bed when he remembered the mark from last night. A little apprehensive, he pushed down the waist of his pajama pants – and there it was. Undeniably real, even darker now, in the light of day, and completely, unbelievably confusing.

It was way too early to try to understand what it meant, though, and seeing Kurt's name bold and clear on his skin like this suddenly made the need for that shower even more immediate. He'd cool off, grab something to eat and fuel his brain up with caffeine, and then he'd analyze the situation properly. Because let's be honest, it needed to be properly analyzed _before_ the coffee date with Kurt that night.

* * *

Two hours later Blaine was sitting in front of his laptop, deep in research. He'd scanned through a few articles about "the Names plague" at first, and sure, it was good to know he was not alone in his predicament or going to die because of it, but his questions remained unanswered. Why Kurt's name? Why right now, and in this particular place on his body? What did it mean?

He kept searching, reading through blog entries, tumblr posts and discussion boards. He looked at pictures of dozens of names, located anywhere from shoulder blades to ankles to inner thighs and everywhere in between, on young skin or older, fair to dark. Boys names, girls names, long and short, scrawled or beautifully calligraphed, all sharing the same spectrum of brown color and the origin. But seeing other people's marks, and reading about how or when they appeared, didn't really explain much. No one seemed to have the answers Blaine wanted.

And then, on one of the few Names-related discussion boards he found, he spotted a thread that looked promising.

It was a multiple-page-long discussion about a possible connection between the marks and physical or sexual attraction. The users most active in the thread were all among those who carried names of people they knew, in one way or another. There was a (somewhat sleazy) middle-aged married man who had a name of his kids' sexy young nanny on his shoulder, a college girl who had been hiding a name of a boy from one of her classes under scarves and turtlenecks for months now, and a thirty-year-old single woman who insisted she was _totally straight_ except for the strong attraction to her best girl friend, whose name had just appeared on her breast a few weeks ago. There were a few others, too, and all of them shared one important detail: they had been fantasizing about the person whose name had appeared on their skin even before it happened.

That was what pushed Blaine to read through the dozens of posts, even though he was feeling more uneasy with every passing minute. Okay, his little fantasy last night was ridiculously tame compared to some of what he read the others entertain, but he _had_ gotten off to it, hadn't he? And he had been crushing on Kurt and thinking about him constantly for weeks now, and more than ever since they'd flirted their way through that duet in the common room before Christmas.

Not that Blaine only saw Kurt in a sexual context – far from it. In fact, physical attraction was only part of the reason Blaine couldn't stop thinking about his best friend. But it _was_ part of it, one that couldn't be turned off or separated from the emotional layer of their connection. And the one time Blaine let himself act on it was exactly when his mark appeared. So wasn't it obvious that it had to be somehow related?

And if it was... God, Blaine would have to make sure Kurt never learned about it. After his ordeal with bullying and, most of all, the Karofsky incident, the last thing Kurt needed was knowing that Blaine – the one person he fully trusted with this – couldn't stop thinking about him as so much more than a platonic friend.

No, Kurt couldn't know, and therefore no one else could, either. Good thing Blaine's mark was in a well-hidden place.

There were some other things he learned from reading through the discussion – things that made him suddenly nervous about seeing Kurt in mere hours. Apparently, after the name appeared, the attraction to that particular person rapidly grew, which seemed to confirm the sex-related nature of it. There was supposed to be a certain pull, a need to be close, to touch, and the way the body reacted to the proximity was said to be strengthened, too.

Great. As if he hadn't had enough trouble keeping his crush to himself already.

For a moment Blaine considered calling off the coffee date, but he dismissed the idea quickly. He missed Kurt too much. Heart pounding – which was ridiculous, he texted Kurt all the time – he picked up his phone to confirm their meeting in Lima Bean.

* * *

Kurt really shouldn't feel so nervous. Coffee dates with Blaine were something so familiar it felt like they'd been doing it forever and not just over a month. On any given day, the smell of coffee and the sight of Blaine's smile across the coffeeshop would be enough to make Kurt relax immediately.

Not today.

He blamed the fact that they hadn't seen each other for a week – the longest since they'd first met – but as he was walking to their table, Kurt knew he was lying to himself. The real reason was hidden under three layers of undeniably fabulous clothing, which did nothing to alleviate the feeling like he was naked, like one glance at him would tell Blaine his secret, in all of its mortifying extent.

It didn't help that seeing Blaine here, at their usual table, brought to mind pictures from his dreams – of Blaine at the same table on different occasions, in different outfits, with expressions that varied from amused to interested to serious, but always included what Kurt had already secretly dubbed as _the heart eyes_; something that the real Blaine in front of him was very noticeably missing. Kurt knew perfectly well those were figments of his imagination, just fantasies born from his budding feelings toward Blaine. But his heart refused to get the memo, and that made all the difference. He felt an overwhelming need to run up to his friend, pull him up into a hug and kiss him right there.

God, he needed to get a grip. It was just Blaine. And just another of their usual coffee dates. As _just_ friends.

Years of practicing his _game face_ in the McKinley corridors proved extremely useful now as Kurt settled opposite Blaine to chat happily about their Christmas break. It wasn't like he didn't want to show that he was glad to see Blaine – he had truly missed him. But his emotions seemed to be completely out of control today, his thoughts and reactions all over the place, and it took every bit of restraint not to let too much show on his face or in his voice. And even then some of it must have leaked through somehow because Blaine kept looking at him strangely every now and then, his eyes wide and inquiring, as if he was trying to understand what got into Kurt.

And then their hands brushed as they reached for their coffee at the same time, and it was nothing, just a most innocent, fleeting touch like many they'd shared before, and yet–

Kurt was aware that he gasped softly; he was aware of Blaine's shocked expression and the way he withdrew his hand quickly, as if burned, but all that got drowned in the sudden, tingly warmth coursing up his arm from the point of contact. It felt strange and wonderful, and unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. If he were to compare it to anything, it would be like coming home from a winter walk with your hands cold, and getting to warm them up by the fireplace, or on a cup of hot cocoa handed to you by a loved one – only in this case in happened in a fast, steady wave, radiating from his knuckles where the tips of Blaine's fingers had brushed. It made him feel content and relaxed, and, somehow... whole.

Was it yet another weird side effect of the mark, like the persistent dreams?

It took Kurt what felt like a very long moment, almost long enough for the warmth to dissipate completely, to get over the shock. One look at Blaine's face was enough to make him lose any hope that he may have somehow missed Kurt's attack of crazy. Blaine seemed bewildered, his brow furrowed as he bit on his lower lip, clearly wondering. But he didn't ask. He just smiled, shook his head as if to clear it and went right back to trying to convince Kurt to give up the New Year's party with his McKinley friends and come to the Warblers' celebration instead.

Nothing seemed to have changed, not on the surface at least, and yet, as Kurt was driving home an hour later, he was absolutely certain Blaine must have seen right through him. Not to the mark – that was impossible – but deep enough to realize that Kurt had feelings for him, and not of the platonic variety. And the fact that Blaine said nothing about it, didn't ask or comment or anything, was a pretty clear message: he wasn't interested.

Well, at least he didn't freak out. _Don't ask, don't tell_ then. Oh well. Kurt could live with that.

* * *

The meeting in Lima Bean proved that Blaine was in more trouble than he expected. It turned out the effect Kurt had on him now was almost unbearably strengthened, to the point where merely sharing the same table and talking made everything thrum under Blaine's skin with the need to reach out and touch, and then never stop touching. It felt as if the presence of the mark on his skin caused everything else to be filtered out, leaving Blaine's senses and his thoughts overwhelmed with pure, undiluted _Kurt_.

It was the sweetest kind of torture.

And the shock of Kurt's touch – like a low, steady current of pure bliss – made him jerk his hand away like a fool. It was silly, and probably the least subtle thing he could have done, as he realized belatedly, seeing Kurt's stunned expression – but it was better than the alternative. Because Blaine was about half a second from grabbing Kurt's hand with both of his and pulling him closer, right into his lap, so that he could hide his face in the crook of Kurt's neck and suck on his skin, and slip his hands under all of Kurt's numerous, well-fitted layers to feel as much bare skin as physically possible without undressing.

So really, coming off strange was ultimately a much better option.

Of course – he realized on his way home as the Kurt-induced fog slowly lifted from his brain – all of this meant his life was going to get much harder really soon. Kurt decided to celebrate New Year's in Lima after all, so they wouldn't meet again for a few more days, but once they were back to school, everything needed to change. Unless his newly-acquired reactions were just a one-time thing, which he doubted, there was no way Blaine would be able to touch Kurt anymore, or stand close to him, or talk about anything remotely intimate. Or watch him eat. Or see him pronounce Blaine's name, with that bright smile and a peek of his wet, pink tongue around the lilt of the _L_. Or–

Oh fuck, he was _so_ screwed.

And yet, it was infinitely better than pulling away from Kurt and avoiding him. He couldn't do that, no matter what.

He would manage. Things would work out. He vaguely remembered reading that the effects of the mark were strongest at the beginning (but how long was that?) and/or if you were intimate with the person whose name you had on your skin (which he didn't see happening anytime soon – or, probably, ever). Well, there were also rumors about your body going particularly crazy if the other person had _your_ mark on their body, but that was so rare it was almost unheard of among the reported cases. Either way, side effects or not, Blaine was not going to let his weird _condition_ ruin his friendship with Kurt.

He'd just have to tough it out.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

In the end, things did work out. They still spent as much time together as they had before, at school and outside of it, talking incessantly, joking around, singing. The only thing that really changed was the physical distance Blaine took care to keep between them now. No more squishing together on a sofa during Warblers practice, no more hugs or shoulder bumps, or patting Kurt's knee.

It felt weird at first, but Kurt quickly picked up Blaine's new aloof ways and played along, never commenting on it once. It hurt to see sadness in his eyes sometimes, when Blaine didn't quite catch himself in time and aborted a fond gesture mid-air to avoid straightening Kurt's collar or brushing invisible dust off his lapel – but really, it was all for the better; better for Kurt.

It was difficult though – _so_ difficult, to be in Kurt's presence, in the persistent pull that was like a magnetic field surrounding him, and hold onto the control all the time. Blaine still woke up every morning with new pictures of Kurt in his mind, still got hard just from thinking about him whenever he let his mind wander. He promised himself he wouldn't jerk off to those thoughts, and he really tried, focusing on random scenes he'd seen in porn instead when he got himself off every morning, just so that he could survive another day of constant temptation. But sometimes, late at night or at the weekend, when he was exhausted or half-asleep – sometimes he slipped. He always came hardest then, with Kurt's name on his lips, muffled by the pillow or his own hand.

Still, the need to control his every move, the constant struggle with himself, the sexual tension with no actual relief in sight – it was exhausting, and by the end of January, school wasn't enough of a distraction anymore. He needed something else, something to occupy his mind and keep it from obsessing.

What he needed, he decided, was a new romantic interest – someone he could actually date and kiss and touch, someone to think and fantasize about without feeling guilty.

It was the only way if he was to remain a good friend for Kurt. Because with the way things were going, the way he was slipping lately, drawing too close, letting his hands touch sometimes (and yes, the buzzy heat was still there, every time), he might just snap one day and attempt to ravish Kurt. Or at least kiss him. And that would be the worst thing he could do. Kurt had been assaulted with a kiss once. The last thing he needed was a repeat, and from his best friend at that.

So Blaine opened himself up to the possibility of falling in love with someone who wasn't Kurt. He went so far as actively looking around, and it didn't take long until he met Jeremiah.

He was older – a college student, attractive and so very approachable. He had an easy smile and dozens of conversation topics at the ready, all simple and safe, fascinating even when they revolved around college life. What was best, though, was the attraction. It was not overwhelming, and there was nothing to make Blaine's hands itch and his mouth go dry – well, not more than any other attractive boy had before the mark appeared.

They'd just met for coffee twice so far, but they _could _do a lot more, and that was a huge part of the appeal. Blaine _could_ imagine Jeremiah kissing him – hell, touching him, undressing even – with no guilt gnawing at his insides whatsoever. It was refreshing, exactly what he needed, and it made dealing with his feelings for Kurt so much easier.

And now Valentine's Day was approaching, and Blaine hoped it would be when Jeremiah asked him out for a _real_ date at last, one that would end with a proper kiss. The mere thought made him giddy. He just needed to signal his interest, make sure Jeremiah understood that Blaine was open to more than just being friends. And what better way than in song? He could even ask his Warbler friends to help him.

Oh, this would be _grand_.

* * *

It took some time to get used to the new dynamics between them, but as it definitely beat the alternative of having Blaine avoid him completely, Kurt was glad to take what he was given. It wasn't so different from what they'd had before – the easy friendship, the understanding, the care for each other – minus the casual touches that Kurt had finally gotten used to just weeks before. And on one hand it was a relief – being around Blaine was intense enough even without the effect his touch had on Kurt (and yes, he'd checked a few more times, just the tiniest bits of contact, and the tingly warmth was there without fail). But on the other hand, if he was being honest, Kurt had to admit he craved Blaine's closeness and his touch more than ever before.

He'd never been a particularly tactile person, and he'd been keeping to himself for years now, almost every touch directed at him bringing hurt, not comfort or a caress. It left him even more hesitant to reach out. And he'd been fine with it, really; proud to say he didn't need the physical closeness. Of course, at the back of his mind there was always hope, a thought that it would be nice to have that, one day. But even his crush on Finn, and then Blaine, used to be all about pure feelings, not physical intimacy.

Used to. Before the mark. Because now... now Blaine's closeness, the warmth of his skin under Kurt's fingertips, the flutter of pulse in his exposed neck, his scent – sometimes it was all Kurt could think about, and it felt shockingly new and overwhelming and so, _so _good.

Still, he refused to let his newfound urges rule over him, and definitely not in the most ultimate way where he would deliberately fantasize about his best friend while... taking care of his (ever-growing, it seemed) needs. If he couldn't distract himself any longer, he would take care of business quickly and efficiently, without really thinking about anything (or anyone) in particular. It was just physiology, after all, his teen hormones apparently kicking in at last. But that was no reason to drag Blaine into this part of his life, not even by allowing himself to think about him in an intimate context. Kurt would never be able to look him in the eye again if he did.

Besides, it almost didn't matter that whenever he got off like that, it was okay at best, granting him more relief than pleasure, really, because sooner or later another one of those weird non-orgasms would come, leaving him shaky and gasping for air, a boneless puddle of blissed out boy with his nerve endings firing off like crazy. It didn't happen often after that first time – two, sometimes three times a week, and thankfully always when Kurt was alone in his room – but when it did happen, it made him hope that whatever caused them would never stop.

Of course, with Blaine so obviously aware of Kurt's crush and trying to be gentle about it, avoiding anything remotely suggestive that could look like leading him on – awkward moments were bound to come. And Kurt was used to hiding his feelings and behaving in a non-threatening way, but what was viewed as neutral and ignored by straight boys, did not go unnoticed by his gay best friend.

He could see how uncomfortable it made Blaine when he sucked the melted chocolate off his fingers once, or nibbled at the end of his pencil when they studied together, and while those were by no means attempts at seduction, Kurt understood they could be read that way and was careful not to do it again. But he couldn't avoid applying chapstick (it was winter, after all!) or bending to pick up his bag from the floor (although he did try to do it while seated now, after Blaine almost choked on his coffee once). And drinking a milkshake at lunch was really quite impossible without, well, sucking on the straw – the shakes in Dalton cafeteria tended to be really thick, and also really delicious. Sometimes Kurt just couldn't resist, which always made Blaine blush and flail a little before quickly turning away to talk to someone else.

The whole situation was frustrating and Kurt even stretched out of his comfort zone to prepare a speech, and managed to begin delivering it one afternoon when he was alone with Blaine in the senior commons. He just needed his friend to know that none of it was on purpose, that he understood Blaine wasn't interested in anything more than friendship, and he respected that – but he didn't get to say it because Blaine quickly changed the topic, his cheeks flushed and his hands tightly fisted, creasing the fabric of his pants.

It sucked, because so far they'd always been honest with each other and could talk about anything, no matter how awkward. Kurt had told Blaine about Karofsky, and his silly crush on Finn with all the embarrassing details. And Blaine understood and didn't judge, just teased him about it gently enough to make him blush and laugh and forget about his discomfort.

But apparently things were different when it was personal.

Still, even with the distance and the occasional awkwardness and the topics they never touched, it was fine, and by February it was even better than fine because it looked like Blaine was beginning to get comfortable around Kurt again. He was still Kurt's best friend and not just the boy Kurt was hopelessly, uncontrollably in love with.

And then... then he was suddenly Kurt's best friend who was in love with a junior manager at GAP, and he was standing there, bashful and happy and star-eyed, cheerfully requesting the Warblers help him serenade the guy, and Kurt felt like his heart was being stomped on.

Keeping the smile on his face and helping Blaine convince the council was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

For Blaine, performing had always been as natural as breathing. He felt more at home on stage – or in any place that served as one – than he did in his actual home. Which is why it made no sense that he felt so out of sorts now. The Warblers were already strategically placed all over the GAP store, just waiting for Blaine's signal to begin the performance. Jeremiah was there, ready to be wooed, even if he didn't know it yet. Their song choice was great and their harmonies arranged perfectly.

And still something didn't feel right.

It couldn't be stage fright – Blaine didn't _get_ stage fright – and yet, ever since he'd presented his request to the Warblers two days ago, a vague discomfort had been gnawing at his brain, and he still couldn't pinpoint the reason. It was stronger than ever now, almost buzzing along his nerve paths as he was standing to the side of the store with Kurt, rambling about Jeremiah to distract himself and waiting for the perfect moment to start the performance.

Or maybe it was just Kurt's closeness affecting him again, but suddenly, he had doubts – a _world_ of doubts.

"This is insane, I don't know what I'm doing. We haven't even really gone out on a date, we shouldn't do this."

Even through the layers of clothing, Kurt's touch was still a shock and a spark as he took Blaine by the shoulders and pushed him firmly towards the center of the store.

"Okay, come on, man up. You're amazing. He's gonna love you."

And just like that, the discomfort was gone and Blaine took a deep breath to center himself before stepping out front.

Once he started, it was _fantastic_. The rush of performing hot and bright in his veins, he was singing his heart out and everyone clearly loved it – the customers, the staff, his fellow Warblers. Jeremiah seemed shocked at first – and okay, the song choice might have been a bit bold, but Blaine wanted to state his readiness loud and clear – but it only took him a moment to start smiling too, even as he was flitting around the store, pretending to be busy.

Oh, Blaine was _so_ getting a date after this.

The first wave of discomfort hit him fast and hard not even halfway through the song, and he almost stuttered on the confident promise of the lyrics, his show face falling for a second before he got himself together. It was the same unsettling feeling from before, only much stronger, like a physical blow, and Blaine felt... upset? But _how, why, no he didn't_! He felt wonderful, singing to a hot guy he was falling in love with, and everything was going beautifully, so why would he be upset?

Not that it mattered, really – Blaine was a natural born performer. He wouldn't let some weird emotional glitch affect his show, and the feeling faded almost instantly, anyway.

Only to return, even stronger, just as he got to his favorite line, the one about toys. This time it didn't let go and he stumbled on the stand he'd just jumped on.

_It's wrong. So wrong._

What was it, dammit?

He powered through, but it was getting harder by the second, his focus unraveling, his brain screaming at him to pay attention – but to _what_? It took every last bit of effort to remember the words and keep his dance moves even vaguely consistent, but he would manage, he would finish the song, he _would_ –

He didn't. The pounding emotion was too loud in his head, drowning out everything else, and Blaine heard himself slide off-key, a jarring sound and then silence, filled only with the fading harmonies of the other Warblers and their concerned whispers.

It was unlike him. He neverbroke off in the middle of a song, not even during rehearsals, ever. And now he was standing silent in the middle of the store full of his friends and curious strangers, in front of the guy he was trying to woo. And he _didn't care_. Only the pull of the distress call in his mind mattered right then, and once he stopped fighting it, the instinct only took seconds to kick in. He whirled around without a conscious decision, in a panic-induced search, until he found him.

Leaning against a mannequin, Kurt looked broken, crushed – and then only stunned as he quickly got his face under control again. Blaine was by his side in two quick strides.

"Are you alright?" The urge to reach, to hold, was almost unbearable, his hands feeling empty and his nerves achingly raw.

Kurt arched an eyebrow, his eyes wide. "Of course I am. What happened?"

"_What_ happened?" he repeated dumbly, his eyes raking over Kurt's tense form to make sure he was safe and sound.

"Blaine? You stopped the performance."

"I... what? Oh, I did. Are you sure you're okay? You looked upset." The feeling was fading away already, from the crushing, all-consuming waves to a barely-there buzzing, but his brain was still frozen, shocked with it.

Kurt looked around, confounded, before grabbing Blaine's sleeve and pulling him away and out of the store. "I'm fine. Come on, I think they've called security. Let's talk outside."

"But Kurt –"

"Outside, Blaine." It was gentle, but firm, and Blaine had no choice but to follow.

It took awhile to grab their coats from Kurt's car and dodge the group of confused Warblers – Kurt had some sort of wordless conversation with Wes in passing, one that involved eyebrows, headshakes and nods, which seemed to be enough to avoid questions for now – and by the time they found an unoccupied bench opposite the store, Blaine's rock-solid conviction that he had somehow channeled Kurt's state of mind had wavered and died. The urgency to find out what was wrong and help somehow had disappeared with the strange wave of emotions. While Blaine was still certain it had something to do with his mark, a new sort of connection that he'd have to investigate at some point, there were other things quickly taking priority in his mind now.

He'd just sung a highly sexualized song in the middle of a GAP store to a guy he was trying to impress, in front of a crowd of staff and shoppers.

Had they really called for security? Would he be banned from shopping at the GAP now?

In light of all this, the fact that he'd freaked out in the middle of the performance for no apparent reason seemed trivial indeed.

* * *

Kurt had no idea what had just happened.

Of course, he was infinitely grateful that the heart-crushing torture of watching Blaine serenade another guy was over. He'd thought he was ready, and had been mentally preparing for this all morning because this was what friends did, right? They supported each other, no matter what. And Blaine, regardless of Kurt's feelings for him, was first and foremost his best friend.

And he'd been doing fine at first – encouraging Blaine when he'd gotten cold feet, singing the stupid creepy song along with the other Warblers like he was supposed to. But at some point it had gotten to be too much. It turned out it was one thing to practice the number at Dalton and mentally steel himself, and quite another to actually see the way Blaine's face lit up when he sang directly to Jeremiah. To see how eager and enthusiastic he was to put his hands on the guy given half a chance, while he'd been pretty much freaking out whenever he'd touched Kurt fleetingly in the last month and a half. It was just... too much.

– _when I get you alone –_

– _you can keep your toys in the drawer tonight –_

– _I want you so bad –_

It was all Kurt could do not to run out of the store to hide in his car and cry. Or scream. Or both.

And then it stopped. Just like that, like flipping a switch. As if the universe noticed Kurt's plight and took pity on him.

And now he was sitting confused in front of the GAP with Blaine, who had just gone from frantic and weirdly protective for no reason to freaking out about the performance. And thank god for the change of tune, because Kurt had almost spilt that _yes, he was upset, and wasn't it obvious why_? Instead, he just sat there, trying to hold on to the supportive best friend attitude (even though _duh, Blaine, of course it was too much_)and not overanalyze Blaine's unusual behavior or question him about it.

Jeremiah came out out of the store ten minutes later, clearly annoyed, and Blaine bounced to his feet like a puppy. He was given no chance to speak, though.

"What the hell were you doing? You can't just bust a groove in the middle of someone else's workplace!"

"But –"

"No. I almost got _fired_. I managed to convince my boss it was just some sort of high school prank or a dare, but they're going to watch me like a hawk now." Even with Blaine's back to him, Kurt could feel his distress. He could definitely see it in the way his shoulders slumped. Jeremiah's face softened. "Blaine, let's just be clear here. You and I got coffee twice, we're not dating. If we were, I'd get arrested 'cause you're underage."

"But I'm–"

Jeremiah was already shaking his head and turning away to go back to the store, and the look on Blaine's face when he turned held such a painful mix of embarrassment and devastation that Kurt could almost feel the emotions himself.

But at least it took him away from his own headspace as he scrambled for something to say, some comfort to offer. Then he found it.

"You know what? I think I have a perfect thing for us to do on Valentine's Day. A non-couple thing," he rushed to add. "In fact, I think we need to convince all of the Warblers. Come on."

His McKinley friends were just the right brand of crazy to soothe a broken heart.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Kurt was surprised how easily Blaine found a common language with most of his McKinley friends – though when he thought about it, it was really not surprising at all. He should have known from seeing Blaine interact with basically everyone in his life, if not from the ease with which he had talked to Kurt that first day they'd met. Blaine was the most sociable, easygoing person imaginable.

After watching him charm his way through the Lonely Hearts Club Dinner on Valentine's Day, taking Blaine to Rachel's party two weeks later was an easy decision. He would blend in beautifully, and maybe some mindless, carefree fun was just the thing to finally chase away the sadness still lingering in Blaine's eyes. Because Blaine could say he was over Jeremiah all he wanted, but he wasn't fooling Kurt. Underneath his bubbly exterior, Blaine was _feeling_ too loudly – so loudly that Kurt was surprised the other Warblers didn't notice the hidden longing and heartache of their favorite frontman.

Then again, no one else was probably as attuned to Blaine as Kurt was.

Things had been good between them lately, ironically better than before the GAP Attack. The rest of the weird, forced distance had melted away and while Kurt would honestly prefer to spare his best friend the suffering, he couldn't say he regretted the result. Even unrequited feelings were so much easier to bear when Blaine didn't act like he was going to catch the plague if he so much as brushed against Kurt in passing.

So in light of all that, the party had seemed like a good idea. Now, however, halfway through the evening, Kurt was not so sure.

No, scratch that. He was absolutely sure it was one of the worst ideas he'd ever had.

He'd decided early on that adding alcohol to the volatile mix of his emotions could only end badly and despite Puck's urging, he stuck to Coke all along. Blaine, however, had no reason for such reservations. And he was clearly having _loads_ of fun.

Drunk Blaine, it turned out, was even more excitable and energetic than sober Blaine, and though he'd stayed at Kurt's side for a while, after his first drink he'd bounced away to dance and explore. That was three hours ago, and Kurt was seriously considering just leaving Blaine to it and going home. The only thing stopping him was that he wasn't sure if anyone else would be sober _and _care enough to stop the Warbler in case he decided to drive himself home at some point. So he stayed, though watching Blaine duet with Rachel through a series of increasingly heated love songs was not his idea of fun. Especially when Blaine seemed to be even more tactile when drunk.

When they finally left the stage after an inappropriately long hug, Kurt got up from his seat by the piano. Maybe now he'd manage to cajole Blaine into going home – he'd even drive him, and pick him up tomorrow so that he could get his car. Anything to finish this failure of an evening. But Blaine just passed him with a huge grin as he bounced away to the couch, where he lay with his head in Rachel's lap, very nearly purring when she started combing her hand through his messy curls.

That was quite enough for Kurt to watch. And since he couldn't help feeling responsible for his best friend's safety, he went in search of some other company to pass the time.

Tina, who had been glued at the lips to Mike all evening, was now sitting with Mercedes in a quiet corner. They were giggling, adorably tipsy, and Kurt exhaled with relief as he crossed the room to join them. His view of the damn couch would be blessedly blocked from there, and he hadn't had a chance to properly talk with his girls for weeks.

They were in the middle of catching him up on the complicated tangle of New Directions gossip when Kurt saw a glimpse of something on Tina's right wrist. He took her hand to look closely – and gasped.

Right there, in sepia brown letters, a spiky scrawl spelled _Michael Chang_.

"Tina, what is this?" Kurt's voice came out a good half an octave higher than usual.

"Ooh right! You haven't seen my tattoo yet!" Tina beamed at him and flexed her wrist to show off the writing. "I've only had it for a month."

Mercedes shook her head. "I still can't believe her parents let her do this. Mine would have blown a gasket if I had wanted to tattoo my boyfriend's name on my body, not to mention in such a visible place."

"Well, they've been surprisingly understanding." Tina shrugged dismissively, and then yelped as Kurt grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet and away, barely sparing a quick "Excuse us for a second" to a stunned Mercedes.

The crowded basement was no place for this conversation, but the laundry room was just upstairs, and conveniently empty. The words were out as soon as he closed the door behind them.

"That's not a tattoo."

Tina paled a little, her eyes widening, but she caught herself quickly. "I don't know what you're–"

"Tina. It just appeared one day, didn't it?"

She gasped, surprised, all pretence falling off her face. "How did you know?"

"I've read about it recently. About those marks." It was all Kurt was ready to reveal. "So your parents really know?"

"Well it would be hard to hide something like this. They were shocked and a bit suspicious at first, but then they asked around and it turned out that there were already a few people with similar marks in the local Asian community. They accepted it fairly easily after that, especially when Mike got my name."

Kurt's heart lost a beat. "Wait. Mike too?"

"Yes, on his shoulder. Our parents took it as a confirmation that we're destined to be together. They've been much more supportive of our relationship since then."

Kurt's head was spinning. He'd read that there were some cases where two people got each other's marks, but as far as he knew, they were extremely rare. Exceptions, really. Well, now one of these exceptions sat on the washer in front of him, braiding a strand of her hair and smiling brightly.

"Did you report it somewhere? Show it to your doctor or... I don't know, there are scientists working on the phenomenon, I've read."

Tina shook her head. "No. We considered it but our parents decided there's no use. They don't want us to make a big deal out of it, or stick out. That's why they told us to pass the marks off as tattoos. We know what it all means anyway, even if the scientists need years to find their proof."

"You do?"

"Come on, just think about it. Why would two people get each other's names on their skin if not to tell them they are perfect for each other? The love of each other's lives? Plus," she looked at Kurt earnestly, as if telling him a secret, "believe me, when you have it, you just know. Your body knows."

"How?" Kurt had a feeling he knew exactly how, but he needed to hear it, if only to make sure he hadn't imagined it all, that someone else, someone he knew, really shared this experience with him. Tina's smile turned dreamy.

"I can't imagine ever being with anyone else now. I mean, we were close before, of course, but ever since the names appeared, it's a whole new level, Kurt. It's almost like we can read each other's minds. And we can't stop touching, seriously. At first it was just me and Mike thought it was funny because I literally couldn't stand not being close to him. But a week later he got his own and he understood. Everything is just... more. It's like we're one, now. I can't think of a better way to put it."

Something squeezed painfully in Kurt's chest. "Wow. That must be nice."

"It's the best. Really." She hesitated for a bit, looking at him with searching eyes. "Kurt... Do you want to tell me something?"

"No." He shook his head quickly. "No, I don't."

She didn't look convinced, but let it slide, just nodded and squeezed his hand.

"Okay, but if you ever want to talk–"

"Thank you." He moved in to hug her and she returned the embrace tightly. "Sorry for kidnapping you like this."

"It's okay. But we should go, Mike is probably looking for me already."

"You go. I'll be there in a moment."

Tina looked like she wanted to say something before she slipped out – question Kurt's sanity maybe, because what was he going to do in someone else's laundry room, alone? Rearrange fabric softener? But he just needed a few minutes to compose himself before facing Blaine again. Tina's words resonated deep within him, stirring awake long-hidden romantic notions of two halves of an apple and soulmates and fate, of true love and connections so real and visceral that nothing could sever them. And Kurt really didn't need them awake now.

Because even if she was right about the "destined to be together" thing, clearly it was only one side of the coin. They were among the lucky ones, Tina and Mike; what about those who didn't have this two-way connection? Whose mark sat on their skin cold and solitary, not reciprocated on the other's body? What about people like Kurt? Were they destined to have the love of their life be unrequited?

Because as tempting as it was to hope that Blaine could have a mark – Kurt's name – too, Kurt knew he would only be fooling himself. Would Blaine act like he had if he felt the pull that Tina had talked about and Kurt knew far too well? Would he distance himself instead of getting closer? Would he fall in love with another guy, never even trying to have this kind of connection with Kurt? And if he didn't have the mark by now, over two months after Kurt's own appeared, what was the chance he would ever get it?

Resigned, Kurt shook his head. It was no use thinking about it, especially now. He needed to work on getting Blaine home, or convince Rachel to make sure he stayed overnight and didn't drive until he sobered up. And then he had to go home to bed, and hope tomorrow would be an easier day.

* * *

The moment Kurt reentered Rachel's basement, he wished he hadn't.

His friends were sitting on the floor in a circle, a wine cooler bottle spinning in the middle, and _damn _ Rachel's sharp eye because Kurt was _this close_ to backing out the door and returning to his cozy laundry room when she spotted him and flew up the stairs to pull him down. She was drunkenly insistent and there was no way to escape her clutches as she led him to a spot beside her. And when Blaine joined in with a mildly slurred "Kurrrrt, you _have to_ play with us" from his other side, Kurt had no choice but to tell his treacherous heart to shut up, settle on the floor and hope the bottle wouldn't point to him.

It did, of course.

Still, he was lucky. He could have gotten Finn, which would be totally awkward because there was no way Kurt would kiss his own step-brother and ex-crush; or Santana, who would probably try to tongue-fuck him and then never let him live it down. But no, thankfully it was Quinn whose spin of the bottle landed on Kurt, and he was reasonably certain he would get away with just a quick peck. Which was just fine with him, thank you very much.

He was just leaning towards the center of the circle and Quinn's pursed lips when a hard tug at the back of his waistband sent him flying, making him lose his balance and land in a graceless heap right in someone's lap.

Even with his mind frozen in surprise, his body's immediate reaction was enough to tell him whose arms had just encircled him tightly, making it virtually impossible to move. And then Blaine's voice sounded right by his ear, low and growly.

"No. Mine."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **_Let's start 2013 with a new chapter :) Happy New Year!_

* * *

CHAPTER 7

Whooping and whistling.

Faces – cheering, surprised, smiling. Faces Kurt knew. Faces that didn't matter in the slightest.

It was all background, muted and faraway, a faint buzz barely registered by some small, unimportant part of his brain. Everything faded but the urgency of what just happened – what was still happening; all of his senses saturated with exactly what he'd been craving for, months of denial and now suddenly, shockingly, here it was.

Blaine's touch, his arms crossed tight around Kurt's waist, his body hard and solid behind him. Lips resting against the side of Kurt's neck, just lightly, innocently there. Blaine's smell, cologne and alcohol and _him_. Fingertips brushing gently, soothingly over Kurt's stomach, a square inch of absentminded bliss.

Kurt could barely breathe, his body frozen and oversensitive, every nerve right there on the surface, firing away, pleasure and contentment and warmth. He felt drunk on it, or drugged, too much endorphins all at once and a helpless, delicious surrender.

Slowly, the rest of the world started to come back – the bottle spinning. People laughing, kissing. The music, still there, a pounding counterpoint to Kurt's steady heartbeat. The slightest scratch of Blaine's stubble against his neck.

Someone was saying something – Rachel, he realized lazily – gesturing towards the bottle and prodding Blaine's arm. It only served to move Blaine's hand over Kurt's belly and down to his hip, gathering him up even closer. A mumbled "Mm, we're not playing" and hot breath against sensitive skin making Kurt shiver.

Enveloped in _good-right-Blaine_, his body humming at what felt like the perfect frequency of happiness, he watched the others play until they got bored and abandoned the circle one by one. Finally only Mercedes remained, asleep against the armchair, and okay, Kurt was getting a little cramped, folded in Blaine's lap like he was. Maybe it was a good idea to move somewhere more comfortable. Like the couch. Blaine could hold him perfectly fine there if he still wanted to (_oh please let him still want to_), and Kurt wouldn't mind regaining feeling in his legs, now that the all-encompassing urgency to keep Blaine as close as possible at all cost had faded somehow.

Except it wasn't that easy.

"Mm no, comfy." Blaine sounded utterly drunk, adorably whiny and a little sleepy. Kurt couldn't resist him like this, especially when he pressed his face even closer, the gentle slide of soft, dry lips under Kurt's ear. "You smell so good. So _so_ good, Kurt."

Oh. Okay then. Moving was not an option.

Kurt settled for stretching his legs a little, flexing his feet to help the circulation. The annoying pins-and-needles feeling had nothing on Blaine's contented hum vibrating against his skin. Never mind discomfort, he'd just sit here and enjoy the closeness while he still could.

* * *

Five songs later, Blaine was no longer humming and Kurt's back was screaming at him to move.

He'd been sitting hunched for way too long, curled into Blaine's chest to accommodate for their height difference, and finally he reached the point where the discomfort was stronger than the pleasure of being held. Blaine's chin hooked over his shoulder seemed heavier with every passing minute. Slowly, bracing himself for resistance, Kurt straightened up a little.

"Blaine?"

Silence. He leaned forward and Blaine followed, his arms loosening their hold on Kurt's middle.

"Blaine."

Still nothing. Kurt took his hand and squeezed it gently, then less so; shook his arm. No reaction. Blaine was fast asleep.

Great.

* * *

Getting Blaine, uncooperative and heavy, up and into the car was a challenge that demanded full focus (and some help from Finn), so it was only when they started towards the outskirts of Lima that Kurt realized he had no idea where he was going. He knew where Blaine lived – in general terms – but he'd never been there, or even had the actual address, and the only person who could pilot him was currently out cold in the passenger's seat, resistant to all attempts at communication.

He could probably pull over and go through Blaine's pockets to find his driver's license, and go from there – but then what? Blaine was dead to the world, there was no way he'd be able to get into the house and to his room by himself. Kurt could just imagine himself ringing the bell of his best friend's house at two in the morning, holding Blaine passed out against him.

_Hello Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, here's your son, nice to meet you, 'kbye_.

Sure, that would go well.

No, there was only one option. Sighing, Kurt turned the car around and went home.

* * *

Leaving Blaine asleep on the couch was out of the question – his dad could stumble upon him if he went to get some water during the night. Which meant he had to sleep in Kurt's room. In Kurt's _bed_. And the potential for creepiness that offered was terrifying.

Blaine didn't wake up while being hauled – none too gently – out of the car and up the stairs. Winded, Kurt deposited him on top of the bed, slid off his shoes, covered him with a throw and fled to the bathroom to prepare for sleep – and to calm down. Yes, Blaine probably wouldn't be comfortable sleeping in those jeans. Yes, his cardigan would get terribly wrinkled. But Kurt wouldn't risk freaking him out any more than he was probably going to be anyway when he woke up – hung-over, in Kurt's bed, not remembering how he'd gotten there.

By the time Kurt slid under the sheets, careful to keep a respectable distance, he was fairly certain he had this whole thing in proper perspective.

The developments of the night were as wonderful as they were unexpected. But they were also influenced by alcohol. It made sense that Blaine, tactile by nature, turned out to be a cuddly drunk. And while Kurt's body had clearly been addicted to Blaine's closeness since his mark appeared, the fact that it had gotten a solid dose of its drug tonight didn't mean there was a steady supply in Kurt's future, or that he was entitled to anything because of it. Nothing had changed between them, he had to remember that.

Overly aware of Blaine's presence so close that he could reach his hand and touch him – so close that his body hummed with it, Kurt didn't think he'd manage to fall asleep.

When he opened his eyes, it was dawn, the first tendrils of sunlight barely breaking the darkness in the room. He was warm and comfortable, and felt _amazing_ – almost too good for such an early hour.

The warm, boneless weight of a boy on his chest explained a lot.

Blaine was pressed against him, hot even through the comforter. His arm was thrown possessively over Kurt's waist, his head resting on Kurt's shoulder, right over the spot where his name was inscribed. His face looked so soft and peaceful that Kurt couldn't resist. Gently, he threaded his fingers into the short curls at the nape of Blaine's neck and left them there, his thumb brushing slowly back and forth in a tender caress.

He should probably get up soon, get out of bed and dressed before Blaine woke up. But there was something so precious in the serenity of this moment that made him hold onto it just a little bit longer.

Blaine stirred, a slow, sleepy movement, and Kurt quickly stilled the strokes of his fingers, moved the hand away. Shit. _Shit shit shit_. Blaine just nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck though, humming indulgently. Oh, good – he wasn't awake yet, then.

Until he stiffened and moved away, his voice slightly panicked.

"Um, Kurt? Where am I?"

* * *

The crisp air of early morning worked like a cold shower, which was exactly the effect Blaine hoped for when he'd told Kurt he wanted to walk, rather than be driven, to Rachel's house to get his car. Five minutes of a brisk march and the last remnants of alcohol fumes had lifted from his brain, leaving him wide awake and kind of embarrassed about his hasty (more like desperate) retreat.

Oh well, the prospect of Kurt's father finding him in his son's bed after a party was _really_ terrifying. Leaving as soon as he was up had seemed like the best course of action.

Half an hour later, not far from Rachel's place, he found a little bakery that served coffee and went in to grab some breakfast. He'd promised Kurt he would stop somewhere to get properly caffeinated before getting behind the wheel. And while, thankfully, he didn't feel too terrible considering the amount of alcohol he'd ingested last night, coffee may help kill his burgeoning headache. And clear his mind.

But it turned out no amount of coffee – or, at least, not the two cups he had – could fill the gap in Blaine's memory, enlightening him on the details of how he'd gotten from Rachel's couch to Kurt's bed last night, and what the hell he'd done in between. The only thing he was certain of – because his body was still buzzing with it – was that he'd had Kurt in his arms for at least part of that time. There were fuzzy images of sitting in a circle with others, Kurt's body flush against his, of holding onto Kurt's strong shoulders and Kurt's fingers playing with his hair – but he had no idea how much of those were just alcohol-induced dreams.

At least Kurt hadn't looked freaked out in the morning, so there was a chance Blaine hadn't assaulted him in any way, or done anything to make Kurt afraid of him, thank god.

It took a surprisingly long time to follow this train of thought properly in his befuddled state, so it was only when Blaine was in his car and halfway home that he realized. He'd been completely out of control last night, any shred of rational thinking gone, and yet – he hadn't _ravished_ Kurt, hadn't even kissed him, because _that_ was something he would have remembered. He was down to his most basic instincts, completely drunk, and he'd done _nothing_ to make Kurt flinch away from him in the morning, not even when he invaded his personal space like _whoa_ in his sleep.

Whether the mark was sexual or not, it didn't rule him. It didn't make him do anything he wouldn't do without it.

The relief of the revelation almost made him run off the road.

* * *

Coffee in the Lima Bean with Rachel, and then helping her out with the post-party cleanup – Kurt could think of better ways to spend his Saturday, but it beat sitting in his bedroom, remembering every touch and every word, and moping over the fact that he didn't know if he'd ever have another.

Too bad Rachel wouldn't stop talking about Blaine.

"He called me, you know, not an hour ago. Asking what happened between him and you before you left the party."

"... oh." Kurt busied himself fixing his coffee, trying not to let his face betray him. Of course Blaine wouldn't remember. It wasn't like he'd expected anything else after this morning. Still –

"He seemed a bit shocked when I told him." Kurt's heart sank even lower. "Well, I mean, I was too, last night! Then he wanted to know how you reacted and–"

Kurt's phone rang, saving him from hearing more.

"Excuse me for a second." He fished the phone out of his pocket and sighed. "Speak of the devil. _Hi Blaine_."

The voice in the speaker was soft, tentative. "Hi. Listen, Kurt. I um... I wanted to ask you something. Would you go out with me? On a date? Not a coffee date, just. A date. Please?"


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** _A short one today, and I'm sorry for the wait. But there will probably be another chapter later this week._

* * *

CHAPTER 8

A long time ago (really, it felt like another lifetime now), during his desperate, hopeless crush on Finn, Kurt entertained a secret fantasy about his first date. The details changed every now and then – his outfits alone were different every time – but the main elements stayed the same. He'd known perfectly well how it would go if Finn Hudson ever realized he _liked_ Kurt and asked him out on a date.

He would turn up on Kurt's doorstep with a dozen red roses. They would go to Breadstix, where they'd have a wonderful time getting to really know each other, discovering shared experiences and interests in the process. By the end of the meal, Finn would take Kurt's hand over the table, declaring that he didn't care who saw, he was not ashamed of being on a date with the boy he was in love with (_of course_). They would share the tiramisu and then, still holding hands, they'd go to the theater. In the middle of some deep, emotional movie, Finn would casually put his arm around Kurt's shoulders. They would drive back home afterwards, discussing the artistic value and existential meaning of what they'd watched, and then, at Kurt's front door, Finn would kiss him goodnight, a chaste peck on the lips that would leave them both swooning.

A year later, Kurt still blushed a furious shade of red at the memory.

* * *

The reality of Kurt's first date was a bit different from what he'd dreamed back then.

That Sunday afternoon Blaine came to pick him up with a lovely bouquet of pink and purple tulips, wearing a smile that was almost shy and a sparkle in his eyes when he told Kurt he looked amazing. They went to a cozy restaurant on the outskirts of Lima, and didn't need to discover things they shared because they'd known them for a long time. The conversation was easy and two hours passed in a blink, and there was green tea cheesecake instead of tiramisu. They didn't hold hands because it was still Ohio and while bravery was a great quality, getting to eat in peace and leave the place undisturbed was better. And besides, the look in Blaine's eyes as he looked at Kurt, so new and yet somehow so familiar, felt like a hug even when they didn't touch.

They went to see _Love Story_ at the revival theater afterwards, a movie they both knew so well they could quote the dialogue. Could, but didn't, because the movie turned out to be background only, sweetly familiar as they sat in the safe darkness and _dared_. It _felt_ like a dare to Kurt, like a leap of faith, to take Blaine's hand waiting so innocently between them – take it and hope he hadn't read the signals wrong.

The warmth of their touch was different this time, not so sudden and explosive, more like contented humming running through Kurt's whole body, as if his skin and blood and heart recognized this boy now and greeted him with a smile. Blaine's hand slid into his like it belonged there, their fingers intertwining, and then Blaine's thumb was tracing simple patterns over the back of Kurt's hand, feather-light and _so warm_, and it was–

It was perfect bliss.

The movie finished eventually – that was probably inevitable, though Kurt would be absolutely content to just sit like this for a few more hours, marveling over the miracle that was skin, with its countless nerve endings feeding pure, undiluted pleasure right to his brain. But that was it, the lights were back on and it was time to take his hand away, get up and go, back to the car, and back home.

The fact that Blaine looked about as flushed and dazed as Kurt felt was a bit of a consolation.

* * *

"Why now?" he couldn't help himself as they pulled over in front of the house. Yesterday, after the phone call, he'd told himself not to ask, not to question a good thing, but it had been sitting on his tongue all evening, a grain of doubt like ash.

Blaine made an inquiring little sound and looked at him, so beautiful – so _everything _– and Kurt had to swallow and blink a few times before he remembered what he was saying.

"The date. I loved it, but... why now, when you've never seen me as anything more than a friend before?"

"Oh Kurt." Blaine chuckled quietly, a soft, incredulous sound in the darkness. "I've always hoped you'd be more than my friend. From the very first day. You didn't notice?"

Well _that _was not an answer he expected. "_No_? Of course not, you never said anything and... But... Jeremiah?"

Blaine shifted, looked away. "Jeremiah was a distraction. I couldn't have _you_ so I tried–"

"Why? Why did you think you couldn't have me? Because you could, you know. Even months ago." God, all this time. He couldn't believe it.

"I... really? I was sure that after what you went through, after Karofsky, and your dad, and changing schools, the last thing you needed was... I was just trying to be a good friend." Blaine sighed and shook his head. "I should have asked, shouldn't I?"

"That might have been useful, yes."

"Wow. I really am clueless." Blaine stared through the windshield for a moment, hands clenched on the steering wheel. When he turned back to Kurt, there was something open and vulnerable in his face, his voice soft. "Look, Kurt. I don't know what I'm doing. I pretend like I do and I know how to act it out in song, but the truth is... I've never really been anyone's boyfriend."

Kurt smiled. "Me neither."

There was a question hanging in the air, somewhere on the brink of falling – and then Kurt's telephone beeped with an alarm, signaling his curfew.

* * *

Blaine walked him to the door in silence, their hands brushing against each other with every step. They stopped on the porch, face to face in the warm light and Kurt's heart was pounding, an excited gallop of anticipation.

"Thank you for tonight, Blaine. It was wonderful."

"No, thank _you_. Do you think we could do it again some time soon?"

"I'd love that."

And then the moment was there, Blaine was leaning in, slow and careful, and Kurt's breath turned shallow. Ready – he was _so_ ready. His eyes slid shut. He could feel Blaine's breath ghost over his lips –

The soft kiss on the cheek was a shock.

_Hell no_.

Without a conscious decision, he reached to keep Blaine close, one hand gently on the back on his neck, and turned his head to meet Blaine's lips.

* * *

It wasn't Blaine's first kiss, but it was Kurt's, at least the first one that truly counted, and Blaine had been fully prepared to wait, go slow, not force anything, no matter how much Kurt's lips tempted him with every word, every smile and every bite of food tonight. The fact that Kurt had no intention to wait and didn't hesitate to take control to get what he wanted made him go weak in the knees.

Kurt tasted like cherries and sunshine and happiness, and the few seconds of his lips pressing softly against Blaine's were enough to make Blaine an addict for life.

He chased Kurt's mouth when he pulled away, a small whine escaping him like a wordless plea, and Kurt gave in immediately. He was bolder already, pressing in almost hungrily, with his hand on Blaine's cheek to angle him just-so. And then Kurt's lips were parting, his tongue brushing across Blaine's lower lip before dipping shallowly into his mouth and honestly, why had no one ever told Blaine that kissing could feel like this? Because really. He'd never gotten so hard and desperate so fast, not ever. And yet, he felt no need to do anything about it. He'd be perfectly happy to just stand there with Kurt, kissing for the rest of the night. Judging by the contented little sounds Kurt was letting out with every slide of Blaine's tongue, he wouldn't be opposed to it, either.

The porch light flickered suddenly, a quick sequence of on-off-on-off-on, and Kurt gasped and pulled away.

"Oh god, my dad. I've gotta go. But... see you at school in the morning?"

"Definitely. I'll be early."

"Me too." With a last quick kiss Kurt opened the door and went inside, and Blaine nearly danced back to his car, grinning so hard his face hurt. He didn't care.

Kurt kissed him. Kurt wanted him.

God, he was so in love.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

_Will you be my boyfriend?_

It was a question that wouldn't leave Blaine's mind, always right there on the tip of his tongue, waiting to explode out of him without a moment's notice if he wasn't careful. Halfway home that Sunday night he already itched to call Kurt, and when they met in the Dalton parking lot the next morning, it was the first thing that he wanted to ask.

But he couldn't do that, not like this. Kurt deserved the best there was, in _everything_, and that included having this question asked properly, in well-planned, romantic circumstances – even if Blaine had to bite his tongue all week. He had a few ideas for the next weekend, though. He would do it _right_.

It was hard, though, when everything was so sweetly awkward between them, all fumbling hands and sitting too close and yet not close enough, furtive glances and too bright smiles without a reason. It wasn't like being boyfriends would change much in the way they could act in public, but the longing was there, in every touch and every look, and if Blaine wasn't very much mistaken, it wasn't just him.

* * *

The revelations of that weird Cheerio coach from McKinley only added to that.

"Wow, it means that Warblers gotta do something _sexified_." Blaine was already scrolling excitedly through his mental library of songs they could perform when he noticed Kurt get tense next to him. "Hey, what's wrong?"

They were at the counter now so Kurt took a moment to answer. It wasn't until they were seated at the table, fixing their coffee (a dash of nutmeg for Kurt, sugar for Blaine), when he shrugged, not meeting Blaine's eyes.

"It's nothing. I just... I don't think I'm able to _do_ sexy." He said quietly.

Blaine completely missed his cup with the lid he was trying to put back on.

"Are you kidding? You _are_ kidding." Kurt didn't look like he was kidding. "Kurt, you're the sexiest guy in all of Ohio."

"Riiight." The skepticism in Kurt's face was bordering on a sneer. "No, I'm not. Don't joke like that."

"_Ngh_." Blaine answered eloquently, because this particular expression on Kurt's face, with his eyebrow arched and his jawline so strong and defined, with a blush creeping up high on his cheekbones, always did _things_ to him. He swallowed thickly. "Not joking."

Kurt still didn't look convinced, and a coffeeshop in the middle of the afternoon was not a good place to just _show_ him, so Blaine shook his head a little to clear it and tried another angle.

"Besides, even if you don't believe me, I'm sure you can do sexy onstage. You're an actor, come on. You did flirty perfectly when we were practicing that Christmas duet." Kurt blushed harder and bit his lip. _Guh_. "Just. Just imagine that someone you're attracted to is right there, maybe? There and fascinated, and waiting for the end of the performance to sweep you away and show you just how sexy you are."

Kurt gasped softly.

* * *

God, his own advice would be the death of Blaine one day.

Kurt looked nervous when they were getting ready for the performance in Dalton's old storage house the dean let them use sometimes. He looked _mortified_ after Blaine's little introduction, squirming under the curious glances of the Crawford girls, and his hands were still shaking visibly as they started the song. But the moment they ended up face to face, Kurt's whole demeanor shifted between one heartbeat and the next. And Blaine was so. Screwed.

Kurt turned on the teasing.

Blaine wasn't sure how exactly he got through the whole song without messing up the routine or forgetting the words completely. It probably meant that he was good, if he managed to sing and dance even through the haze of desire muddling his brain, on legs that felt like jelly and with a hard-on that made it difficult to move fluidly.

With Kurt anywhere in his field of vision – his body moving like it was made for this, every look and smirk a seduction – Blaine forgot all about the girls they were performing for, or the reason they were doing it, or even the fact that all of his fellow Warblers were around them, looking. And the lyrics of the song they were performing – what had he been thinking, choosing _Animal_? – only added to the sexual tension simmering in the air between them.

The end found them standing on the concrete floor of the storehouse, covered in bubbles, two inches from a kiss and breathing heavily.

"Get a room, guys." Jeff groaned, passing them by, rolling his eyes with a smile.

They did.

Well, okay, not like that, but. Yeah, they did.

* * *

By the time Blaine finished talking with the Crawford girls, trying to get their opinions on the performance, Kurt's hair and his emotions were mostly back under control. His mind, however, was still pretty much reeling with the newfound realization: when faced with Blaine, pulling off sexy and seductive was _easy_. Once he took the leap and let himself think back to their kisses on the porch, and admit how much he wanted _more_ of those, looking at Blaine and communicating attraction, desire through every move and every expression was as natural as breathing.

And effective, too. He'd seen it in the way Blaine couldn't look away from him, mesmerized, the way he kept searching Kurt out wherever they were throughout the song, and touching him in passing whenever he could get away with it. Blaine's gaze was almost hungry by the time the music stopped.

And Kurt knew exactly how he must have felt. His own body was still thrumming with the sensual, sexy vibe of the song and Blaine's proximity.

"I don't understand why they look like I've offended them somehow." Blaine came back, confusion clear on his face. "Usually they are all too eager to give us feedback."

"Well I'll hazard a guess that usually you spend more time singing at them than at your male co-lead." Kurt smirked, and the perfect _O_ of Blaine's mouth only made him want to kiss it.

Blaine shook his head and shrugged. "Oh well. I think Jeff and Nick are handling it just fine. So, are you up for coffee?"

The Lima Bean. People. A table between them.

"How about we hang out at my house instead?" Oh wow, he didn't plan _that_. His body approved, though. "I made brownies last night."

"You had me at brownies." If the dark, heated look on Blaine's face was indeed an indication of his relationship with brownies, Kurt should maybe get him some sort of a leaflet about food porn from Miss Pillsbury.

* * *

The house was surprisingly empty and quiet when they arrived, and maybe once it would have made Kurt nervous, but right now it only made something excited swoop in his belly as they took the brownies and glasses of cold milk upstairs to his room.

The brownies were delicious – of course they were, Kurt made goddamn great brownies, but now their plates were empty and Kurt was sitting on the edge of his bed, with Blaine in front of him in the desk chair, and the silence was getting awkward. Even the music from the iPod speakers wasn't helping when each song seemed to be more suggestive than the previous one.

Oh, they had plenty of things to talk about if they wanted. But the air between them was charged, full of tension, and Kurt didn't even try to pretend he didn't know why.

He wanted to reach out and touch Blaine. And he was pretty certain Blaine wanted the same. Why was it so hard then?

"You've got some chocolate on your lips." Blaine's voice was slightly off, a little breathless. Kurt darted his tongue out, trying to find the offending spot. "No, there... um, let me."

And then Blaine was kneeling on the floor in front of him, his thumb swiping along Kurt's lower lip. It came up smeared with a bit of melted chocolate that Blaine licked off immediately, and Kurt couldn't hold in a gasp.

There was only a second of hesitation, a heartbeat that was barely enough for their eyes to meet, and then Blaine was kissing him, deep and hungry, licking into his mouth, his tongue still cool from the milk and tasting like chocolate, and it was all Kurt could do to bury his fingers in the hair at the back of Blaine's head and hold on, and kiss back with a passion that came right from the very center of him. He was pretty sure the soft little moans were his. He didn't care.

And then, just as fast as Blaine's mouth came, it was gone. Kurt tried to follow it with a whimper of protest, but Blaine cupped his cheek and looked at him, so solemn and intense even as his voice came out rough and breathless.

"No, wait. I need to. First. Be my boyfriend? _Please_ be my boyfriend, Kurt."

"_Yes._"

And they were kissing again, hard and deep, with abandon, and it was fucking _heaven_, even better than their first kisses on Sunday night because Kurt knew what to expect now, he had dreamed of the miracle of Blaine's lips every night this week, and now they had time, they were alone and _boyfriends_ and they could. They could kiss all they wanted.

He'd never thought one could _feel_ so much, anything so powerful. But it seemed as if his whole body was _made_ to feel Blaine, perfectly receptive to every touch, every tiny movement and sensation and sound. Every press of Blaine's lips and sweep of his tongue flowed down Kurt's spine in a delightfully hot wave, feeding the fire settling low in his belly. His fingers curled, helpless with pleasure, in Blaine's hair, the back of his blazer; his head swam; his lips tingled and burned and _god_, this was better than anything, ever.

Blaine let out a broken moan right into his mouth, his hands sliding up Kurt's thighs to clutch at his waist under the blazer, impossibly hot through the thin cotton of his shirt. And then Blaine was mouthing at Kurt's neck and it was too much to keep doing anything more then _feel_. Caution thrown to the wind, Kurt gave up all control, gave in to the overwhelming _yespleasemore_.

"Kurt?"

The knock on the bedroom door was a shocking return to reality.

He only had enough time to pull away from Blaine and take in his boyfriend's – _boyfriend's!_ – completely debauched appearance before the door opened and his father stood in the doorway, a recipe book nearly falling from his hand.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

And then the door was closing again and Blaine was looking at him with an absolutely mortified expression, his hair tousled and lips bee-stung from kissing, and Kurt could only hide his burning face in his hands, trying not to whimper with embarrassment.

* * *

His father was thankfully nowhere to be seen when Kurt walked Blaine to the door. They didn't even kiss goodbye, both too distressed to prolong this moment.

"Call me later?" Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand, clearly concerned though Kurt had assured him he would be fine. He shouldn't be in too much trouble. At least he hoped so.

"I will. Drive safely."

And then Blaine was gone, and Kurt turned around and headed back to his room, trying to be as quiet as possible. His dad's voice caught up with him just as he was starting up the stairs.

"Kurt? Come here for a second."

Sighing heavily, he resisted the temptation to pretend he didn't hear the summons, put on a brave face and stepped into the kitchen. His dad looked at him over a glass of water – and looked away so fast that something in Kurt's chest squeezed painfully.

"New rule. The door to your room stays open when Blaine is over."

"But–"

"It's exactly the same with Finn when whichever of his girlfriends visits and you know it, so no sour faces." His dad crossed to the fridge and started taking out random ingredients, clearly uncomfortable. "And... I want to talk to you after dinner, okay? Okay, you can go."

* * *

Tears stung Kurt's eyes as he closed the door behind him and crossed to his wardrobe to change out of his uniform. He'd gotten so used to his father's acceptance; it hurt to know theory was one thing, but actually seeing him with a boy seemed to–

His train of thought was cut short when he caught a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror – and gasped. Okay. Maybe he should cut his dad some slack before assuming anything... considering that he blushed himself at what he saw.

His hair was mussed, his lips dark red and noticeably swollen, but that was just the beginning. Kurt had no idea how or when it had happened, but his uniform shirt was untucked, the top two buttons undone, his tie hung loose and it was impossible to miss the large, dark purple hickey under his left ear.

Oh wow. They _did_ get carried away.

The funny part was, he was completely incapable of regretting it. He got carried away making out with his boyfriend, and it was _glorious_, parental displeasure or not.

Except when he reached to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way, the fabric shifted to reveal the first letters of Blaine's name under his collarbone, and Kurt's excitement quickly melted away as dread started to seep in.

What if Blaine saw the mark? It would be so easy for him to notice it in a situation like this, even just today – one look, one unfortunate slide of the shirt collar and –

And then what? He'd have to explain the phenomenon, confess just how long he'd had the mark, maybe even, if Blaine asked the right questions – like he usually did – tell him about all the weird side effects? The dreams, the pull towards him, the heightened reactions... For Kurt, these were almost normal by now, something he'd had time to get used to. He could only imagine what a shock it would be for Blaine to hear about it all for the first time, and when they'd only just started dating.

Of course, it they stayed together longer – and Kurt definitely hoped they would – there was no way he would be able to hide the mark forever. It was in a spot that didn't need much to be uncovered, as today proved – a couple of buttons and there it was. But he really needed more time, a chance to tell Blaine on his own terms, to prepare him somehow. Maybe link him to an article, passing it as something interesting he'd read? Gauge his reaction? Or tell him about Tina and Mike, if they let him. And then, a bit later, admit to having his own mark – that should be gradual enough.

The last thing he wanted was to freak Blaine out. He'd tell him, of course he would. Soon. He'd just give him a little more time. A month maybe. Two, _tops_. It just meant he'd have to make sure his shirts stayed put and buttoned up until then, that's all. He could easily do this.

Okay, cross out the _easily. _But he could, right?

He had more immediate problems now, anyway. The impending talk with his dad after dinner, for one. Making sure he had a non-staining concealer that would actually cover the hickey. Finding the way to think about Blaine without an immediate reaction in his pants because _that_ would make the talk about hundred times more embarrassing than it was certain to be anyway.

* * *

Blaine was doing his best, he really was. But if he was being honest with himself, it was inevitable after the afternoon performance and Kurt's explosion of sexiness, and then all the kissing in Kurt's bedroom, and being boyfriends now... He'd had trouble resisting even when they were completely platonic, so tonight even the tiniest thought of Kurt – okay, most any thought, because they all centered around Kurt anyway – made heat flare in his belly. It was only a matter of time before he'd give in to the temptation. Especially when Kurt texted him that he wasn't in trouble with his dad, which made the weight of worry lift from Blaine's shoulders.

He made it till bedtime, but when he finally caved, sprawled naked on his bed behind the locked door, it only took seconds and it all flooded and overwhelmed him until there was nothing else. The sense memory of his boyfriend's lips, his hands and skin and scent, his thighs holding Blaine firmly in place when he kneeled on the floor. He savored it, drew it out until it was almost torture to hold back any longer, and then it was an implosion of pleasure, everything centered and shockingly focused, an undiluted, overflowing ecstasy.

Kurt called him ten minutes later.

"Hey. What are you doing?" He sounded a little winded, but bubbly, which brought an immediate smile to Blaine's lips.

"Thinking about you." Which wasn't even a lie, was it? Even if he didn't mention the context – that would be _way _too forward. "How did the talk with your father go?"

"Good. Mortifying, but good." There was a smile in Kurt's voice. "It was _the_ talk, you know? He wanted to make sure I'm educated and... um. Safe." Blaine could practically hear the blush spreading on Kurt's face right now. It was adorable. "And that we... respect each other. I wouldn't be surprised if he planned to deliver this speech to you, too, at some point. He did ask how your parents take your being gay and us dating."

"Oh." Blaine couldn't decide if he was more terrified or moved. "They don't know. About us. And I'm sure they'd rather it stayed that way."

"I guessed so." The affection in Kurt's tone felt like a hug. "Anyway, he said you're always welcome here. As long as the door to my bedroom stays open."

"Oh. Good." That was a relief. Not that Blaine worried about it too much – he'd met Burt Hummel before and admired his relationship with Kurt, his acceptance. Still, it was great to know they were okay.

Kurt hummed in the speaker, and then his voice took on that teasing, faux-strict tone. "Now, let's discuss the rules concerning hickeys."


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Having a boyfriend was the best feeling in the world.

Ever since Kurt had said _yes_, Blaine felt as if he had his own little sunshine factory somewhere inside his chest. He woke up with a smile every morning, eager to get to school and see Kurt again. There was more bounce in his step and new energy in his muscles. Even his head felt exceptionally clear and focused – except for the moments when Kurt distracted him, which he did regularly with the smallest gestures and the most innocent words.

His nights belonged to Kurt, too. He could no longer remember a time when he hadn't dreamt of Kurt every night – either normal dreams with their surreal dream logic that fled in the morning, leaving behind abstract, vague memories, or, sometimes, just glimpses, out of context pictures that stayed with him for days afterwards. A couple of times Blaine experienced a weird sense of déjà vu in completely innocuous situations – a feeling like he must have already seen Kurt in this particular blue shirt and black vest combo, illuminated by the sudden ray of pale March sunshine; must have had the quick kiss on the lips in the middle of Dalton's mostly empty library when he leaned in to fix Kurt's crooked tie.

Except he was pretty sure he hadn't.

He didn't dwell on it too much, though – not when every moment spent with his boyfriend was so wonderful it took his breath away.

It felt ridiculous, how not that long ago he had believed that he could be a danger to Kurt, that his instincts or the mark on his skin could push him to do something forceful or ungentlemanly. It couldn't be further from the truth. There was physical desire, of course – he was a teenage boy with an incredibly hot boyfriend, after all – but mostly, what he felt for Kurt was gentle and tender, protective even. He just wanted Kurt to be happy.

Which was what led him to this very moment in the Warblers practice – facing the befuddled council, heart pounding with excitement. The first half of his idea had been decided, his dual lead for Regionals suggestion accepted. It was time to move to the second, more significant part.

He waited for the noise of conversation to die down a little, but as soon as the the topic of auditions was raised, he spoke up.

"No, no auditions. I want to sing the duet–" the dramatic pause was probably unnecessary, but he couldn't stop himself. "With Kurt."

Only then did he look to his right where his boyfriend sat on the other couch (they'd learned early on that the only way not to get completely distracted during practice was to sit separately), and the stunned look on Kurt's face made him grin. He hadn't known of Blaine's plans. It was a _thank-you-for-the-two-weeks-together_ surprise.

Except something wasn't right.

A murmur was rising in the room, a few faces at the back clearly upset, angry even, and Blaine could hear at least one _Of course he'd choose his boyfriend_. But... didn't they realize how amazing Kurt's voice was? How well they sounded together?

Blaine raised his hands in a placating gesture and waited until the room was quiet.

"Gentlemen. I know what it looks like, but hear me out. I have a particular song in mind: _Perfect_. It would fit perfectly with _Raise Your Glass_. This way we can build our setlist on Pink's songs. And since I've sung this one with Kurt already –"

"Of course you did," someone behind him muttered.

" – and I know that our voices go together really well, and we have good chemistry–" some sniggers and groans from the back of the room, and Blaine actually stopped talking and looked around. The group of boys closest to him and Kurt – mostly freshmen and sophomores who always eagerly followed his lead – were smiling and nodding in agreement, but they were the only ones. Behind them, the older Warblers didn't look impressed at all. Blaine tried to keep the confidence and authority in his voice as he asked. "Anyone in favor of Kurt being my duet partner at Regionals?"

The number of raised hands was smaller than he'd expected. Eventually, it was only Thad's hesitant support that decided the matter. Wes smiled stiffly and struck his gavel.

"Decided. Congratulations, Kurt."

* * *

"You shouldn't have done it, Blaine. It was a lovely gesture, and you're an amazing boyfriend, but you shouldn't have antagonized them like that."

Blaine shrugged, pushing away the uneasy feeling he'd had in his stomach since leaving the practice. "What are you talking about? They voted in your favor."

"Just barely. And they didn't like it at all. I'm new, and I'm your boyfriend. I wouldn't be given this opportunity in normal circumstances. It doesn't seem fair."

"But your voice is amazing, Kurt. And we're going to kill this song. They will love us for this when we win Regionals, you'll see."

Kurt didn't look entirely convinced.

* * *

Making Kurt happy had officially become Blaine's new favorite pastime.

There was something in the way Kurt's face lit up with joy and wonder, in his most genuine, uncontained smile that showed his teeth and made his eyes crinkle, that felt like the biggest prize in the world. How could he worry about anything – another argument with his father or one more anxiety attack for no apparent reason – when Kurt looked at him with such open adoration, as if Blaine was the best thing that happened to him in a long time; when he whispered _thank you_ and kissed his cheek.

There were so many opportunities to show Kurt how important he was; so many moments, little and big, that made Blaine's heart sing.

Soothing Kurt's nerves before they went onstage at Regionals. Seeing him shine bright when they sang – not ostensibly to each other, but in Blaine's head, so very much so. Holding his hand when it turned out that no matter how good they were, New Directions won with their original songs. Having flowers delivered to Kurt's house, just because, and then listening to his delighted, breathless voice telling him how much he loved the gesture. Spending an hour pointing out every little thing that he loved about Kurt, when his boyfriend had a bad day. Talking until Kurt fell asleep on the phone one night, then just listening to him breathe, imagining how it would feel to be there, so close, with Kurt's breath ghosting over his skin and his warmth seeping into Blaine's body.

Blaine had never felt so appreciated before. So _wanted_. He was almost afraid to think it but he felt... loved. And it felt better than he'd ever believed possible.

Being with Kurt, seeing each other every day at school and still going on dates or just hanging out afterwards, spending so much of his time either _with _Kurt or at least in the blissful awareness that he was close, somewhere in the same building, almost within reach – it was amazing. A dream come true. Blaine felt so, _so _lucky.

He should have known it was too perfect to last.

* * *

Kurt hadn't even stopped and thought before asking Blaine to come to the Night of Neglect concert with him and support his McKinley friends, but now, as they were walking through the school, he was wondering if it hadn't been a mistake. It was the first time visiting his old school since he'd transferred, and showing Blaine around, pointing out places that mattered to him and reminiscing about favorite moments made the melancholy and longing flare in Kurt's chest.

Of course, so many of his McKinley memories were painful and bitter, but it seemed to only make the bright, happy ones stand out more, vividly colorful in sharp relief. This was a place that he both hated and loved, a place where he'd been bullied for years for who he was – but where he could actually _be_ who he was, head held high in defiance and every outfit a statement. Yes, he'd had to scream to be heard – but at least he _could _scream, didn't have to dial down his personality and his attitude to fit in better. He missed that. Not all the time, especially not now that he had Blaine, but there were moments when it ached, deep and unrelenting.

Like right now.

And he tried not to let it show, but he must have because Blaine was looking at him, sweetly concerned and so beautiful.

"Aww, you miss them."

And Kurt didn't even have to answer because Blaine knew, he got it, even if he didn't understand, even if it made him sad to see Kurt pine over his old school and old friends. He got it and his expression was resigned, yes, but mostly just accepting – not upset or betrayed like Kurt thought it would be if Blaine knew.

He had no time to contemplate it, though, because just then life decided to remind him why exactly he'd left McKinley in the first place.

Karofsky was as hulky and menacing as ever, scowling and snapping at them, but surprisingly – maybe because of the respite, the distance Dalton had allowed Kurt for the last few months, or because he had Blaine by his side – it was no longer so scary. The bully seemed smaller somehow, ineffectual, like a dog that could only bark because it was too terrified to come close enough to actually bite.

Except Blaine – kind, dapper Blaine – clearly didn't see it the same way because suddenly he was right there, pushing Karofsky away, hard. Fury was flashing over his face – and, shockingly, flooding Kurt's mind, and it felt so crazy, impossible, feeling emotions that so very obviously weren't his, that he didn't even try to react, momentarily paralyzed. The fact that Santana appeared when she did and discharged the situation before it got out of control was a minor miracle because Kurt was pretty sure it would turn ugly really fast otherwise.

* * *

He was fine until they were seated in the almost empty auditorium, listening to Tina sing. But then he started trembling – just internally, a slight vibration spreading under his skin, then growing deeper, until his heart seemed to stutter and his breath came in shallow, hitching puffs of air – and he couldn't _stop_. The visions of what could have so easily happened, and the feeling like he was losing control over his mind... it was too much, too sudden, utterly overwhelming.

Of course, he knew – it was easy enough to guess – that picking up Blaine's emotions must have been just another effect of his mark, one that he'd have to analyze and get used to at some point. It made sense, given the level of connection they shared – or, at least, that he seemed to have to Blaine. It was just... terrifying. Control was something Kurt didn't give up easily. Or ever, really.

Blaine kept looking at him all through the concert but didn't ask anything, just took his ice-cold hand and held it, never letting go, and if there were moments when it felt like an anchor, a lifeline – well, Kurt wasn't going to tell anyone. But he didn't have to say anything for Blaine to know that something was wrong.

* * *

Blaine waited until they were safely parked in a darkened spot at the end of Kurt's street before he turned to Kurt and spoke, his face solemn.

"Kurt, I'm sorry. I know I upset you earlier, and I've never wanted to do that. It's just, when I saw _him_, when I remembered what he did, what _else_ he threatened to do... I snapped. He hurt you, repeatedly, he _hurt you_, Kurt, and I can't–" Blaine's breath hitched and he paused for a while, just breathing heavily. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and tight, but calm. "I _hate_ him. I've never hated anyone like this, Kurt, not even the bullies back at my old school. But _him_ – I felt my blood _boil_ when I saw him. Still, I should have controlled myself better, and I'm sorry."

_Oh._

Kurt took Blaine's hand, his thumb starting the soothing strokes over the back of it on instinct.

"It's okay. I just... I got scared. He's so much bigger than you, if he hit you... I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt."

Blaine chuckled, a surprising little outburst of sound.

"You know, I may be small, but I doubt he would be able to hurt me. I box, Kurt. And I bet I'm faster than him, not to mention more flexible. You don't have to worry about me. But I should have thought before reacting. I just... I'm _crazy_ about you, Kurt. It makes me reckless sometimes and –"

He didn't get to finish because suddenly Kurt was in his lap, kissing him like a starving man, and he didn't even remember how he got there, his body just _moved_. Never mind the mind-boggling new discovery of picking up emotions, that could wait. Kissing Blaine couldn't, they only had a few minutes left until Kurt's curfew and Blaine had just said the most amazing thing ever and this was the best way Kurt knew to react without telling him, clear and loud and entirely too soon, how much he loved him.

They'd been really careful not to get carried away again since that day at his house two weeks ago, and they hadn't really had time to be alone much anyway, which only meant they were _starved_ for each other now. It was so easy and so wonderful to let himself slip just a little, and then a little bit more, and it wasn't until he heard Blaine's sharp intake of breath that Kurt realized that his shirt was half-open.

And that Blaine was staring, eyes wide and shocked, at the vicinity of his left collarbone.

_Oh shit._

"N-no, Blaine, I promise it's not what it looks like, it's not a tattoo, I wouldn't, I... I know it's weird, just let me explain–" His voice was high and panicked, words falling together in a rush, but it was no use. Blaine let out a faint, shaky _Oh my god_ before pushing Kurt gently away, back to the passenger's seat.

"Please– You have to believe me–" Kurt didn't care that he sounded like he was begging because he _was_, desperate to fix it, tears stinging his eyes, but Blaine just shook his head.

"Kurt. Wait." And then he was tugging at his own his shirt for some reason, and Kurt's curfew alarm was blaring, and he reached for the phone blindly, just to make it shut up, _not now_, but couldn't find it in the half-darkness. When he finally did and turned the alarm off, and looked back up at Blaine, he was blinded by... skin. So much skin, bare and tanned, Blaine's stomach toned and flat with just the barest hint of softness around his bellybutton, and it looked positively _lickable_ and Kurt gasped – and then gasped again when his eyes slid down to the sharp jut of Blaine's hipbones and he caught a glimpse of something darker, a familiar shade of brown that looked almost like –

Hands shaking, he reached to switch on the light and... yes, he hadn't imagined it. There, plain as day, shocking and real and possibly the most breathtaking thing Kurt had ever seen, his own name curved gently over Blaine's left hipbone.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

Whenever Kurt dared to imagine that Blaine might have a mark, _his _mark – yes, he did fantasize about that sometimes, so sue him – he never actually thought of where it would be. It was always some nondescript stretch of skin, the placement didn't seem important. But now... now, seeing his name right over the waist of Blaine's black jeans, two simple words nestled comfortably just over his hipbone, made Kurt's brain melt a little. It looked so intimate there, so... at home, and his breath quickened at the thought of curling his hand over the warm-brown letters in a gentle caress or a hard squeeze, of tracing it with his tongue. His hands itched to touch.

He didn't let them. Not tonight, not right when he had to go – he wouldn't be able to leave if he touched. He'd never want to _stop_ touching. And tonight, there was no way to negotiate his curfew. It was Friday, and the family dinner, and he'd promised his dad he would be back on time. So if he wanted to go out anywhere at all during the weekend, he had to go home. Right now.

Still, there was so much to say, and so many questions to ask, and he hadn't even processed it yet, and–

"How long?" His own voice sounded foreign to his ears, and Blaine's face was stunned, full of wonder.

"Since... around Christmas."

"Me too." They looked at each other, as if seeing for the first time. Kurt felt dizzy. "God, we need to talk about it. We need to... so much. But I have to go."

Blaine cleared his throat, licked his lips, just the tip of his tongue darting out. He still looked dazed. "Tomorrow. We can talk tomorrow. And I'll call you tonight. Or you call. Or..."

"I'll call you as soon as I can." With one quick kiss, not giving himself time to linger, Kurt was out of the car and fixing his shirt as he walked fast towards the house.

* * *

The dinner felt like it would never end. Usually Kurt didn't mind the leisurely conversations at the table, the chance to catch up with everyone at the end of the week – it felt nice, after years of being alone with his dad. But tonight he was distracted and kind-of-very-much in a hurry to flee to his room, and the long rant Finn was delivering about whatever their football coach did today was making him squirm and want to press fast forward. He zoned out, remembering the exact shade of brown on Blaine's skin – _was it darker than his own mark, or was it just the poor light in the car?_ – until he heard Carole's cheerful voice.

"All right then, let's clean up, and then we can all watch it."

"Watch what?" Kurt jerked back to reality.

"The movie, of course. _When Harry Met Sally_? We were just talking how we haven't seen it in years, weren't you listening?"

His heart sank. "_Oh_. No, I was, I just– I kind of wanted–"

"Oh come on, buddy, family time!" His dad chimed in. "Didn't you tell me it was one of your favorite movies? All the gushing about Meg Ryan and happy endings? Come on, help me with those dishes."

It was going to be the longest evening ever.

* * *

It was nearly midnight by the time Kurt found himself in bed, the door to his room safely closed and the phone in his hand. Blaine picked up after the first signal.

"Oh thank god, I was afraid you were freaking out." He sounded as if he'd been asleep already and Kurt felt a pang of guilt. He really should have found a way to call earlier.

"Sorry, this took longer than I expected. _Eons _longer. But no, I'm not freaking out, are you?"

"No, Kurt. I'm not." Blaine's voice was warm and solemn. "I'm good. _Really_ good."

Well that was a relief. Blaine hadn't _looked_ freaked out, back in the car, but that was hours ago, and it was a _lot _to take in. Kurt knew, he'd just spent most of the movie quietly exploding with feelings. Mostly good ones.

There was a rustle of fabric and a muffled yawn in the speaker, and Kurt smiled fondly.

"Do you want to go to sleep?"

Blaine hummed and Kurt could almost see him, sleepy and adorable. "I don't want to but I'm losing the battle. Lunch tomorrow, like we planned? And then talk?"

"Yeah, that sounds good. See you at noon?"

"Mm, noon. Goodnight, Kurt."

"Goodnight." He was just about to hang up when Blaine added softly.

"Wait, would you... um, could you send me a picture of... of your mark? I'd like to be able to look at it in the morning when I wake up thinking it was just a dream."

Kurt smiled, breath catching in his throat a little. "Only of you send me yours."

Two minutes later, his screen was filled with olive skin and the warm sepia tones of his own name (and yes, it was minutely darker than the letters on his own skin, he checked), and he couldn't stop himself from stroking it with trembling fingers. His heart was going a mile a minute. It was _real_. It was _perfect_.

He was still clutching his phone and smiling dreamily when he fell asleep.

* * *

Blaine put away the book, glanced at the clock and unlocked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time this morning, just to look at that picture again. He knew it by heart by now, every little detail of it, and yet he couldn't resist. The shock of his own handwriting (_so rough, so imperfect – why has he never taken the time to develop nicer handwriting?_) on the canvas of Kurt's smooth pale skin still made his breath hitch a little, and seeing his name there, as if he _signed_ Kurt, gave him some kind of weird, swoopy feeling in his chest.

There was Kurt's collarbone in the picture, too, the delicate curve of bone and the hollow above, a gentle play of light and shadow. And the fact that Kurt's fingers made it to the picture was another little thrill. Blaine knew it was probably because he was holding his shirt out of the way, but it looked like Kurt had just been stroking the mark.

Thinking about stroking Kurt's mark was a sure way to get very, very distracted.

* * *

It felt like forever, but finally it was time to go.

They'd agreed to meet at the new salad bar they wanted to try, roughly halfway between their houses, and when Blaine pulled into the parking lot a little early, Kurt was already there, leaning against his car. He walked over and gestured for Blaine to lower his window as soon as he parked.

"Hi!" Kurt sounded a little breathless, eyes wide and bottom lip bitten, and Blaine had to kiss him right then. Kurt laughed when they parted. "_Oh_. Hi. So, how hungry are you?"

"Hardly, why?" He'd barely been able to eat any breakfast, his stomach full of butterflies and anticipation.

"How about we skip lunch? I don't think I can eat anything anyway, I just want to–" _Talk. See. Touch._ Blaine knew. "I mean... if you don't mind? I wanted to be patient, I really did, I promise, but... god, Blaine, _you have my name on your skin_."

Yeah. That about summed up Blaine's feeling too.

"_God yes_. We can go to my house right away, instead?"

Kurt frowned. "Won't your parents mind?"

Blaine laughed and shook his head. Right, Kurt didn't know how his family worked. "They won't even notice. I don't know if my father is home, but if he is, I doubt he'll peek out of the office until dinner, and my mom is out doing... I don't even know what today, one of her many clubs. We can hole up in my room. And close the door."

"Oh." The blush that blossomed high on Kurt's cheeks told Blaine he understood the implications perfectly. "Okay. Lead the way."

* * *

Imagining it was one thing, but actually having Kurt in his room, with his door closed and, as it turned out, no one home, was immediately distracting. They started kissing as soon as they entered the room, all impatient lips and searching hands, and it wasn't long before Blaine found himself gravitating towards the hem of Kurt's steel blue sweater. Kurt shivered and broke the kiss when Blaine's hands slid under the soft fabric and to the cotton of the t-shirt underneath.

"Weren't we supposed to talk?" He didn't pull away though. "If we don't stop, we'll end up shirtless and–" He swallowed, his fingers flexing at the small of Blaine's back.

"Can we?" It was daring, and probably too forward, and Blaine hoped he wasn't wrong when he thought he saw the same yearning flickering in Kurt's eyes that he felt himself. "Not to _do_ anything, just... to see. I want to hold you, and I want to see my name on your skin when we talk. I promise, I'll be good–"

A short burst of laughter. "Don't say it like you think I'm afraid of you. I'm not. And... yes, I want to see, too."

They undressed each other slowly, almost reverently, layer after layer until there was nothing but skin and they both stared then, eyes wide and hungry because... _so much_. Not just the marks, though they pulled focus immediately, but... everything. Blaine couldn't stop, couldn't look away from Kurt's smooth skin, his dusky pink nipples, his trim waist over the snug fit of his pants. And, yes, the brown letters right under his collarbone.

"May I–?"

"Yes." They were both breathless, and Blaine's fingers were trembling as he reached and brushed lightly, barely there, over the mark. Kurt's gasp made him look up, concerned.

"What does it feel like?"

Kurt just put his hand on Blaine's hip, the heat bleeding through the fabric, and slowly stroked his thumb over his own name. Sparks danced under the marked patch of skin. Kurt smiled. "Like this."

For a moment, they just stood, eyes and hands on each other. Blaine was the first to recover.

"Okay, talking. Can we... on the bed?"

* * *

They ended up lying on their sides, a foot apart, their hands linked between them.

"So, am I right to assume that we both know a little about them?" Kurt started, gesturing to his mark.

"As much as can be found on the internet: First observed some eight months ago, fairly unusual but appearing randomly all over the world, origin and function unknown, if there is any. They don't seem to pose a threat to the bearer's health–"

Kurt nodded. "It's always a name, though it's unclear why a particular name on a particular person. But it's extremely rare for it to be mutual, you know."

Blaine shook his head. "Not anymore."

"What do you mean?" Kurt frowned.

"I had too much time last night, waiting for your call, so I went and researched some more. Apparently, the number of people with these marks is steadily growing, and matches are happening more and more often. If someone knows the person whose name appeared on their body, chances are the other person also has the mark. Not always, but it's not so rare anymore."

"Oh." Kurt looked like he was pondering something. "That would explain–"

"Explain what?"

Kurt sat up and reached into his bag by the bed for his phone.

"Give me a second." He was already choosing a number, his face focused. Blaine faintly heard a girl's voice from the speaker when the call connected. "Tina, hi! Listen, can I talk to Blaine about what you told me in Rachel's laundry room? I'll make sure he won't tell anyone." Blaine arched his eyebrow, curious. Kurt was nodding and rolling his eyes. "Yes, okay, I will, I promise. Next week. Okay, thank you. I love you too!"

"What was _that_ about?" Blaine asked as Kurt put away his phone and settled back against the pillows.

"Just something she told me in secret. I didn't want to speak about it without her permission but... she and Mike have each other's names, too."

"Oh wow, really? Nice!" Blaine grinned. He liked both of them, and they were an adorable couple.

"It fits with what you found out, doesn't it? That it's happening more often now. I mean, at least two couples in Lima alone? Or, well, the Lima area."

"Two couples _we know of_; there can easily be more. I imagine most people don't tell anyone since it's so weird." Blaine said.

Kurt nodded. "True. I didn't."

"Me neither."

"Tina will pull it out of me though." Kurt winced. "She's already suspicious because I knew what it was when I saw Mike's name on her wrist. Do you mind if I tell her?"

"Not at all." Blaine smiled and found Kurt's hand again, his thumb stroking over the pulse point. "Her wrist then? It's interesting, how those marks form in different places. There are so many questions no one seems to be able to answer yet."

"Yeah." They were both silent for a moment, just looking at each other, before Kurt cleared his throat and asked. "So, have you noticed anything... unusual, since the name appeared?" He reached to trace the letters with his finger and Blaine hummed at the sensation.

"You mean... like the sudden increase in the intensity of your touch?"

Kurt laughed. "Oh yes. I thought I'd jump out of my skin when you touched my hand for the first time after Christmas."

"Oh my god, in the Lima Bean?" Blaine's jaw dropped a little. Wow, he hadn't thought about it earlier, but so many moments looked different now, through the filter of knowledge. Kurt's behavior, his reactions... _wow_.

"Oh, so you remember, too. Yes, then. The pull towards you was unbearable; it took me _weeks_ to get used to it." Kurt was blushing, smiling bashfully. He looked adorable.

"Tell me about it." Blaine nodded, frowning as a thought occurred to him. "Although now I'll be forever unsure whether you like me because of me, or it's just the side effect of this weird mutation."

Now that he thought about it, it stung. Hard.

Kurt's snort surprised him, as did the soft kiss on the lips that followed. Kurt kept his hand on Blaine's cheek when he pulled away and looked him in the eyes, his voice soft. "I was already in love with you before it appeared, silly."

Blaine's breath hitched. It was suddenly hard to speak in more than a whisper. "Oh, so I wasn't the only one..."

And then they were kissing, slow and deep, luxurious. Kissing like this – on the bed, when they had time and there was no risk of anyone walking in because his parents never did – felt even better than before. The knowledge of each other's marks andfeelings made everything so much _more_. It required heroic efforts of will not to follow Kurt's lips when he pulled away.

Kurt was saying something and Blaine had to blink a few times before he managed to focus on the words.

"... the emotions sharing thing? It freaked me out last night."

Kurt shuddered and Blaine automatically reached to stroke his arm in comfort, even as the cogs in his brain kept whirring, trying to make sense of what he heard, without much success.

"What do you mean?"

Kurt frowned. "Oh, you don't... um. It's like... last night, when you pushed Karofsky, I could _feel _your anger. Not just from outside, because I saw it – I literally _felt _it, like it was my own. I think it was because you felt it so strongly, and I was so close? I don't know, but it was... scary. Like my mind wasn't mine anymore."

Something clicked in Blaine's memory. "Wait. _Waaaaait_. Back at the GAP. When I was singing to Jeremiah." Kurt groaned and hid his face in the pillow, but Blaine squeezed his hand urgently. "No, really. It's important. You were upset, weren't you? _Really_ upset."

"No kidding." Kurt mumbled into the pillow.

"So _that's_ why I stopped!" Blaine felt – and sounded – awed. Kurt turned his head at last to look at him.

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't continue, I got so _upset_ all of a sudden, it was... overwhelming. I just stopped because it was too much, and then _it _stopped. So that was it? I channeled your feelings?"

"Huh. Looks like it." Kurt's eyes were wide, wondering.

"Wow."

"Yeah." Kurt shook his head. "This connection is getting crazier the more we learn." Kurt murmured. "I wonder..." He paused and bit his lip. Blaine leaned in and kissed it until Kurt let it go.

"Wonder what?" He asked.

"It's just... something Tina said. Probably nothing important."

Blaine cupped Kurt's cheek and kissed him again. It was getting harder not to. "Can you tell me anyway?"

"Can't you just keep kissing me?" Blaine laughed and made a show of pulling further away until Kurt pouted and sighed dramatically. "Okay, okay. It was just an interpretation of this whole name-on-your-skin thing, I guess. Apparently, some people in the Asian community believe that when two people have each other's marks, it means that they're... soulmates. Destined to be together. But it's just guesswork, it doesn't mean anything. I mean, even scientists don't know at this point, do they?"

Kurt was blushing now, looking away. Blaine felt the word settle in his mind, warm and comfortable, as if it always belonged there.

"Hmm. _Soulmates_... I like this interpretation."

Kurt's eyes flitted back to him, incredulous. "You do?"

"I really do." He leaned over, back to Kurt's lips, only to kiss his mark instead. Kurt gasped softly and wound his fingers in Blaine's hair, holding him there. Blaine laughed softly against the warm skin. "End of talking?"

"Mhm. Shh, kiss me."

* * *

They were alone. They had a bed and the rare luxury of time, and all that naked skin to explore, reactions to learn, sounds to kiss off each other's mouth. Blaine held back at first, careful not to push anything, but Kurt was eager and willing, fingers and lips everywhere he could reach, and soon they fell into each other, skin on skin, touching and kissing and tasting, and oh, it was _divine_.

_No hickeys in visible places_, that was the rule, but no one said anything against those that were safely hidden under clothes most of the time. The ridge of Kurt's collarbone just above the mark was perfect – _perfect _– and Blaine nearly growled when he pulled away and saw the series of little red marks surrounding his name. They said _mine_, confirmed what the letters spelled, and _wow_, who would have thought he had a possessive streak?

Kurt kept squirming and moaning quietly as Blaine lavished him with attention, hands and lips exploring all of the exposed skin but always coming back to Kurt's mark to stroke, trace, kiss. And then suddenly the world tilted and Blaine found himself on his back, pinned to the bed by his boyfriend's weight.

Kurt took full advantage of his new position, letting his hands roam while he kissed Blaine languidly, his tongue hot and sure as it stroked its way in and out of Blaine's mouth. When Kurt moved to suck at his neck next, Blaine whimpered, and then he couldn't stop whimpering as Kurt moved slowly, maddeningly lower, his fingers never leaving the mark over Blaine's hipbone, sending sparks of arousal everywhere.

And then Kurt's tongue flicked over a nipple, just curious little licks, and Blaine gasped and arched and suddenly everything was so much – _too much, too close_ – as Kurt's hard length pressed against his own. He didn't even realize he flipped them until they were on their sides, both panting and flushed, a few blessed inches of space between them.

"Sorry. That was too soon, I got carried away." Kurt was the first to recover, before Blaine managed to untangle himself from the mix of emotions and sensations. His own reaction surprised him. He'd thought he was ready and open to everything, that Kurt would be the one to go slow. _Huh_.

"No, it's okay." He breathed out. "We both got a little too caught up in it."

"Cool off?" Kurt was smiling, not freaked out at all, maybe just a little shy.

"Yeah, good idea." Blaine reached for his undershirt, found Kurt's T-shirt instead and passed it to him before going back to his search. A moment later, they were both somewhat covered and the urgency, the desperate _need_ to be closer had passed.

And then Kurt's stomach rumbled.

Blaine grinned. "How about that lunch now?"

Kurt pressed a kiss to his lips, short and sweet. "Mm, yes please. Turns out talking makes me hungry."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **_Oh look, another update this week ;) Thank you so much for all the wonderful comments!_

* * *

**CHAPTER 12**

Kurt felt it like a current running through the school.

His senses had been sharpened over the years, fine tuned to detect hostility, tension, everything that so often led to violence, so he was instantly aware of the change in the way some Dalton students looked at him.

He'd never been particularly popular, or even really liked since he'd transferred – he was the new kid; he hadn't earned anything more than neutral acknowledgement yet, maybe tinged with a little curiosity. A few of the more outgoing Warblers, including the council members, had been nice to him from the beginning, but apart from Blaine, everyone mostly left him alone.

And then he and Blaine – the cherished leader, the wildly popular _darling_ of the Warblers – became boyfriends. It swayed the dynamics a little. Many of Blaine's avid supporters and followers (although _fans_ really felt like a better word in some cases) suddenly acted like Kurt's new best friends, his relationship with their idol enough for them to warm up to him. Not that Kurt minded, of course – it was nice to have more people to talk to at school, especially since he and Blaine didn't share any classes.

Some of the Warblers' reactions were the polar opposite, though – a barely concealed dislike, as if it offended them that he just swooped in and snatched the best catch in school. And most of these guys weren't even gay.

But it was just gentle waves in the social pool compared to what happened after Regionals.

Okay, nothing actually _happened_ – everything was so subtle that Kurt doubted most people noticed it at all; Blaine certainly didn't. Dalton was a zero-tolerance school, after all. The students were all classy and polite, at least on school grounds where Kurt saw them. (He always wondered if the attitude carried over when they were at home, too, or if some of them, say, tortured small animals in secret to decompress.) Had it been McKinley, the amount of hostility Kurt detected in the air would lead to a close encounter with a dumpster, or maybe a porta-potty. Because, well, it was all Kurt's fault, wasn't it?

Everyone at Dalton staunchly believed that the Warblers – their pride and joy, the rockstars of the school – deserved to go to Nationals. And the only reason they wouldn't was because – as rumor had it – the judges decided one of their songs was _too gay_, that they were sending the _wrong message_ to all the good girls and boys everywhere.

And of course, the song was only gay because Kurt sang it with Blaine. Because Blaine demanded a duet for them. Because he was Blaine's boyfriend.

The result didn't seem to be much more than palpable tension around him, and a whispered comment here and there – nothing violent, or threatening. Kurt could live with it – shrug it off, keep to Blaine and their group of Warbler friends – but deep down, it hurt more than he was ready to admit.

One more place he didn't fit in. A safe, tolerant place – and yet.

What did it say about him?

* * *

When a chance to transfer was set in front of Kurt like a pardon cancelling his sentence, he didn't have to think too long.

His first reaction was one of joy and relief – but then came the guilt. It wasn't fair of him to think of leaving Dalton so readily; not when it had given him so much, in spite of everything – safety and escape, and most of all, Blaine. Sweet, gorgeous, loving Blaine who carried Kurt's name under his clothes, who was in love with him, and always did everything to make him happy. _His_ Blaine, who looked so brokenhearted when Kurt told him about the possibility of transferring back, but quickly covered it with a smile and a hug, and _I will support your decision, as long as you're safe_ whispered into his ear.

Blaine was the only reason Kurt would consider staying at Dalton.

But the arguments supporting the transfer were overwhelming – even if he ignored his own longing after his Glee club friends and how much he wanted to go to New York with them, Kurt knew that his family couldn't really afford Dalton tuition. Every additional month was a financial burden that he could take off their shoulders now that the reason for his leaving McKinley seemed to be gone. The way he never felt welcome at Dalton anymore was just the last straw.

And Blaine understood. Blaine supported him, and encouraged him, and assured him that they would still have afternoons and weekends, that they would be fine. And perhaps this hurt the most – because Kurt could feel Blaine's fear and his misery sometimes, despite the optimistic words. When they were close and he really focused, Kurt could feel the faint echoes of Blaine's emotions, held in check, and yet spiking out of control every now and then. And the awareness that he was causing Blaine pain was much worse than suffering himself.

In a moment of despair, during those few days when he struggled with the decision, Kurt asked Tina for an opinion. He'd finally told her about their marks a week before, and she was the only person he knew who would really understand the dilemma.

But he shouldn't have bothered.

"Of course you should stay at Dalton. Your place is by your soulmate's side, Kurt." Tina said with a firm conviction that ruffled Kurt's feathers immediately.

"Okay, first of all, no one has confirmed the marks really mean soulmates." She rolled her eyes, but Kurt held up his hand to stop her from interrupting. "And second of all, do you think I _want_ to be away from him? But if we're destined to be together, we will survive no matter what, right? And it's not like we won't be able to see each other. Maybe not every day but–"

He swallowed, the thought making him feel a little dizzy. Since they'd become boyfriends, they hadn't spent a single day without seeing each other.

"I don't know why you're asking me when you've clearly made your decision already." She huffed. "Do what you have to do. But it will hurt, you know."

Kurt groaned. "Of course it will. Do you think I don't know that?"

"No, Kurt, I mean _literally_. Mike goes away with his parents two weekends a month. And it hurts. It physically hurts when you can't be close to your soulmate. You'll see."

Oh great. Like it wasn't going to be hard enough.

* * *

There were moments when Blaine felt like he was drowning.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen it coming. From the moment he saw the longing in Kurt's eyes at the Night of Neglect concert, he'd known deep down that Kurt would return to McKinley. He just never expected it to happen so soon, right in the middle of this newfound, delirious happiness – and it felt like the ground went out from under him.

But Kurt's eyes were shining, his excitement radiating out of him at the thought of rejoining his friends, and in the end _that_ was what counted. As long as it was safe for him back at McKinley, Blaine would support anything that made his boyfriend that happy. _If_ it was safe.

He had his doubts.

He didn't trust Karofsky, not one bit. He didn't believe in his sudden change of heart, and didn't share Kurt's belief that Santana will be able to keep him in check. Frankly, he didn't want Karofsky in the same _town_ as Kurt, let alone the same building, and the thought of them actually interacting literally made him see red. So he tried very hard not to think about it with Kurt around – he wasn't sure how this whole emotions-sharing worked, but he couldn't risk Kurt picking up on one of his worse moments. Blaine was supposed to support him, not make this harder for him. And since he couldn't, say, _eliminate_ Karofsky somehow, he had to trust Kurt's judgment and send him on his way. Let him go.

Kurt seemed surprised when Blaine didn't argue the matter. But Blaine knew it was no use, so he simply focused on making as many happy memories as he could in the too-short moments they had together that week. They talked, they sang, they laughed. They kissed whenever they could get away with it, the urgency palpable now that the separation, even if unspoken, was imminent. A few times during the week Kurt gave him that _look_, as if he was trying to see through him, and Blaine felt momentarily bad for hiding his feelings. But what was the point of letting out the hurt and fear, of telling Kurt about the anxiety that seemed to always sit there now, at the bottom of his stomach? It would only make him feel worse about transferring, and Blaine couldn't do that to him.

* * *

And then it was Friday evening after everything was decided, and they were in Kurt's bedroom, the door open and his family downstairs. Kurt's face was paler than usual, his eyes too shiny, and he was holding onto Blaine's hand like a lifeline.

"God, I know it's the right thing to do, the only rational decision – I _know_ that. So why does it feel like I'm doing something awful and unforgivable?"

_So stay. Stay with me._ Blaine didn't let the words slip out of his mouth, only squeezed Kurt's hand and pulled him into a hug, gathering him close against his shoulder, a familiar, comforting presence. He didn't trust his voice yet. He felt Kurt shake against him, a quiet sob muffled by his blazer, and tears stung his own eyes, unwelcome. Not yet.

"Hey, you'll be fine. _We_ will be fine." He whispered into Kurt's neck, his voice choked. "We'll see each other every afternoon and spend every weekend together. It's not that far. We'll make it work. It will be alright, Kurt, I love you, it will be alright."

Kurt shook harder and nodded with his face still hidden in the crook of Blaine's neck. His voice was muffled when he spoke. "I love you too. So much."

They sat like this for a long while, just holding each other, drawing comfort from being so close. At some point, Kurt's hand found its way under Blaine's shirt and, blindly, to his mark, and Blaine mirrored his move without thinking. Popping open the top buttons of Kurt's uniform shirt for the last time – the last day of him wearing that uniform – he slipped his fingers there, to find where his name lay, safe and more constant than the life around them. It felt good, reassuring. Grounding.

They had the weekend before them with a lot of time planned together. Even after Kurt went back to McKinley on Monday, they would still be boyfriends, still meet and go on dates, and hang out whenever they could. Blaine knew he would work hard for them to stay close, and he never doubted that Kurt would, too.

But it wouldn't be the same. No matter how much he wanted to believe that they would survive this, life was life. He's seen relationships fail because of distance, even a short one. And he knew that sooner or later, life would get in the way, with extracurriculars and homework and other friends. They would call off one date, then another – and then who knew, really? Sometimes love and dedication weren't enough.

A soft knock on the open door shook them out of the moment. Kurt's stepmother was standing in the doorway.

"Boys? It's dinner time." They parted reluctantly, Kurt's eyes red-rimmed as he tried to compose himself. His stepmother smiled at them softly. "Blaine, will you stay and eat with us?"

He startled, eyebrows shooting up. "But I thought it was family night, I don't want to impose–"

"It is. And you're invited to stay if you want to, if your parents won't mind."

By his side, Kurt gasped softly, his face stunned. Blaine remembered his manners. "They won't. And I'll be delighted to stay, thank you."

Dinner was lovely and not at all awkward like Blaine feared it might be. The only uncomfortable moment came when Finn grumbled about his girlfriends never being invited for Friday dinners, but Kurt's eye roll and his curious question about who the girlfriend was this week quickly dissolved the momentary tension as Finn launched into a monologue about his dating life. It seemed complicated.

Blaine stayed for a movie afterwards, the opportunity to spend some more time with Kurt too tempting to resist. The novelty of sitting close together, holding hands, with Kurt's family _right there_ and so accepting of him was new and intoxicating. When Kurt cuddled into his side and put his head on Blaine's shoulder, it made all of his worries melt away, if only for a while. Kurt's father's _Come over anytime you want_ as Blaine was saying goodbye only strengthened the good feeling.

Not for long, though.

An hour alone in his car on the dark empty road home with only the music for company was enough to seep the warm happiness right out of Blaine's mind. By the time he got up to his room, his heart was heavy, this whole week of suppressing his emotions crashing down on him until he was a miserable sobbing mess, facedown on the bed.

_It wasn't fair_.

Finding Kurt, getting together at last, tasting happiness like he hadn't known before only to lose it now felt like unnecessary cruelty. He didn't _want_ to lose it.

_No_. He refused to give it up.

So... what could he do?

Tears spent, he flipped on the bed and stared at the ceiling, ideas slowly forming in his head.

* * *

Convincing his friends to skip classes in favor of visiting McKinley and helping him serenade Kurt turned out to be surprisingly difficult. Organizing an impromptu practice on Sunday wasn't easy either. In the end, it was only about half of the Warblers that decided to accompany him, and they were all going to be in so much trouble...

But Kurt's stunned, delighted face, and his whispered promise, _I'll never say goodbye to you_, made it all worth it. One last glance at him, surrounded by friends, bold and unique, and so happy – and Blaine's heart was overflowing, brimming with love and gratefulness. He was lucky to have this amazing boy in his life, and he was going to do anything he needed to keep it that way.

_Anything_.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** _Oops, how did it grow to be 4500 words? _

_But it's one of my favorite chapters so far, I admit. I had _so_ much fun writing it! And I'm REALLY curious what you think, so please tell me :D I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

**CHAPTER 13**

The first week apart wasn't even that bad. They texted non-stop, rushed to get together after their respective Glee club practices and talked until they were barely awake every night. Apart from not eating lunch together, or meeting in the mornings for sneaky kisses and hot coffee, it almost felt as if nothing had changed. Well, at least when Blaine managed not to think about the fact that Kurt was miles away instead of right there, in the same building. Which wasn't often. But he did his best.

The second week was harder.

On Tuesday, Kurt had to leave after barely a half hour of their coffee date because he had a History assignment to finish and had to catch up on the recommended reading first. Apparently being enrolled in a different school wasn't enough of an excuse for that particular teacher to grant him an extension.

He looked tired and frazzled on Wednesday, after a night spent hunched over books, so they decided to stay in and watch _The Fellowship Of The Ring_ on Kurt's laptop instead of going out. It felt really nice to just sit on Kurt's bed, with a little mountain of pillows behind them and their sides pressed close together, discussing the visual superiority (or lack thereof) of Legolas over Aragorn. But then Kurt's playful banter grew slower, more slurred, and before the Fellowship even set off to their adventure, Blaine realized that Kurt was asleep. Sitting there with his boyfriend's warm weight against his side, Blaine didn't mind pretending that he was watching the movie while in fact he was focused on Kurt's serene face. But when Mr. Hummel checked in on them and noticed that Kurt was out cold, it felt weird to stay any longer. Reluctantly, Blaine slipped off the bed, put away the laptop, covered Kurt with a blanket and went home, leaving a piece of paper with a little heart doodle on the pillow.

On Thursday, the Warblers council proposed an impromptu performance at a local community center after their rehearsal, and with a heavy heart, Blaine called Kurt and cancelled their date. The attendance was completely voluntary, of course, but he was their lead singer after all, and it didn't feel right to refuse after all those times they'd supported him in song when he'd asked them. Not to mention, some of the Warblers had been noticeably cooler towards him lately and Blaine felt a pressing need to fix it. Make them like him again. So he went and sang and danced, even though he'd much rather be in Lima with Kurt.

The strange feeling started when he got home that night.

At first he thought it was just another incarnation of the well-known monster. He'd been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder a year ago and even though it had improved over time, it had never gone away. He was used to it flaring periodically, always in new creative ways to get under his skin, and he'd learned to deal with it by now, at least most of the time. But this was unlike any anxiety attack he'd ever had.

It started with restlessness. It came in a sweeping wave and kept him unable to focus on his homework or the book he tried to read; even something as undemanding as watching YouTube videos was out of the question because he couldn't sit still for longer than a minute. He kept zoning out, his thoughts always finding a way to get to one ultimate destination: Kurt.

Of course, they hadn't seen each other all day, and barely exchanged a few sentences on the phone, so it was only natural that between his feelings and the connection their marks provided, Blaine couldn't stop thinking of his boyfriend.

Except it didn't end there. By ten p.m. he was _cold _– despite turning up the heater and putting on additional layers, he felt as if he'd stayed outside on a cold winter night without a jacket. His skin was warm, and not feverishly so, but none of the heat seemed to register inside, his muscles tense and faint tremors running through his body. He tried crawling under a blanket, but couldn't stand staying motionless and quickly resumed the nervous pacing across the room. Was he getting sick? Was it this flu everyone spoke about?

An hour later he was almost certain it must be because his whole body ached – except it wasn't the usual muscle ache brought on by the flu. This felt different, almost like... over-awareness of every bit of skin and muscle and bone. A deep, annoying feeling like something was wrong with all of it, something lacking, an itch that made him want to rub at his skin – or maybe claw at it, he wasn't sure. It was like a pain that didn't really hurt, but didn't let him forget it even for a second.

By this point, he was sure something was _wrong_ with him. He was falling ill and probably should tell his mom because it was clearly getting worse by the hour. Instead he just wanted to find Kurt – find him and cuddle up with him and wait for it to pass. Kurt would make him feel better. Blaine knew he would.

So he curled in the middle of the bed with his phone, shivering and aching and trying to make himself stay still long enough to make a call, and he whimpered as soon as Kurt picked up.

"Kuuurt, I think I'm dying. I feel awful, I don't know if I can manage to come see you tomorrow and I just _need_ you here..."

"Oh, we _have_ to meet tomorrow." Kurt said and Blaine heard his teeth chatter. The immediate worry almost overrode everything else.

"Are you alright? Did I somehow give you whatever I have?"

Kurt huffed out a mirthless laugh. "You could say that. It's the separation sickness, or at least that's what Tina calls it. Apparently with the marks, our bodies don't like to be away from each other for more than twenty-four hours, or they get out of balance or something. So believe me, I know how you feel."

"Wait, that's... a mark-thing?"

"Yeah. Tina says the first few times are the worst, like... the body goes into withdrawal, but it's not dangerous. It feels terrible, but supposedly it's still possible to function."

Blaine groaned. "How? I feel like I'm falling apart. Will it pass when we meet?"

"She says it clears out quickly with renewed contact, and it dulls when the separation is prolonged."

"I don't _want_ to prolong it, can't we just meet _now_ somehow? I'll come to you, just... _make it stop_."

Kurt let out a pained moan, the sound ripping at Blaine's heart. "I _know_. Believe me, I had the car keys in my hand ten minutes ago, ready to go to you. But it's late and I don't think either of our parents would be too happy about it. We'll have to survive somehow. Sleep should help, right? And if you can somehow skip Warblers practice tomorrow, we're having a performance at McKinley that I think you may like. Not to mention – god, _I want you with me as soon as possible, please don't make me wait till the evening_."

"Oh, you bet I'll be there. If I can survive the whole day at school first."

* * *

Sleep didn't help, not really. Talking to Kurt seemed to settle the worst of his restlessness, as if his body stopped demanding Blaine had to get up and go look for him, so at least he could go to bed. But he got no real rest that night. He kept waking up after minutes of fitful sleep, still aching and chilly, and it took a lot of effort to fall asleep again, only to repeat the cycle moments later. He was exhausted in the morning, slumped heavily under the weight of the sleepless night. The separation symptoms didn't feel as sharp now in the light of day, but they were still overwhelming, an ever-present discomfort. It was going to be a long day.

A hot shower helped some, but then the whole process of getting ready and driving to school lay before Blaine like a long string of impossibly hard tasks, and even though there was hope on the horizon, it didn't really help all that much, considering he had to crawl across the whole vast desert of his school day to get there.

He approached it just like he did the days when his anxiety was the worst: one step at a time. One minute, one task, one tedious conversation in the hallway.

Being busy and focused on something else helped with the achy emptiness crawling under his skin, but _staying_ busy without getting distracted was nearly impossible. He had a test after lunch that he'd studied for last weekend, and it should have been easy, but his mind kept getting away from him no matter how hard he tried. Time ticked away at a deliriously slow speed, from the beginning of his first class until he could get into his car and drive. It felt like forever, like it would never end – until it did.

Blaine was out of the last class of the day and on his way to the parking lot as soon as the final bell rang. He didn't even stop at his locker – there was no use, not when he had no idea what he might need from there, what homework he had, not even what classes were tomorrow. Everything was _Kurt_. He had to go, now –_ now_.

He was almost at the door when he very nearly collided with Wes.

"Whoa, Blaine, hey. What's the hurry? Do you need something from your car before practice?"

Blaine groaned, his hand flying up to thread his shaking fingers through his hair – a nervous habit he'd been trying very hard to eliminate because his hair was a total mess when he did that, but even increasing the amount of product didn't help when he had a really bad day. Like today.

"Wes, I'm sorry, I can't... I can't go today, I just... I can't."

He was unable to come up with a decent lie, not when it was so hard to even stand still, his feet trying to get him to run to his car and _go at last_; he could just look at Wes, his eyes probably a little wild and pleading. _Don't ask, please just let me go, don't make me stand here a moment longer. _Wes frowned, concerned.

"Are you alright? You don't look too well."

"No. I'm not. I'm sorry Wes, I just..."

"Of course. Go home, get some rest. I hope you feel better by Monday."

He was moving before the _Thank you_ left his mouth; out the door, into the car and off, _off_ – to Lima, to McKinley, to the auditorium where Kurt said he would be.

To Kurt.

* * *

They were already onstage when he sneaked into the auditorium, the whole colorful group of New Directions gathered together, so Blaine had no way to give into what his body wanted – no, demanded: find Kurt, touch him, hold him. Make the world right again.

Quietly, he glided closer to the stage and settled in a chair a few rows from the stage to watch just as Rachel appeared. She was talking, but Blaine couldn't care less about her words because he could finally see Kurt at the back of the group, dressed in black and red, twirling a drum stick between his restless fingers.

Just seeing him was enough to ease the ache and send a wonderful wave of warmth all over Blaine's body. It wasn't nearly enough to make him feel okay again, but it helped. And as Kurt moved to the center of the stage and noticed him, Blaine could clearly see the same relief washing through him. He seemed tense and tightly wound before but now his body went loose, though still in control as he straightened and took position.

From the moment the music started, Blaine was mesmerized. He could see that the separation had affected Kurt as well – he was paler than usual, dark circles under his eyes and hair messier than he'd ever seen it before – but somehow all this only added to the strong, raw presence with which he commanded the stage. And then he started the song, his voice low and slightly rough, and Blaine was done for.

He'd never really had a chance to see Kurt like this before, truly in his element. Yes, he'd sung like an angel at Dalton, but here, in his natural environment, his own clothes – his t-shirt said _Likes Boys_, for god's sake – among his friends that were so diverse and yet so good together, it was a whole new level of breathtaking. And Blaine fell in love with it on the spot – this bold, stunning boy, so unapologetically himself.

Watching Kurt – all of them, really – in action finally made Blaine begin to understand Kurt's longing to come back. He hadn't comprehended it before – he'd supported the idea because it was important for Kurt, but why exactly his boyfriend would want to return to a place where he'd been tormented and bullied was a mystery to him. Now, seeing this unlikely group of friends perform a song that expressed their individuality – and free to do so just for the fun of it – stirred a strange kind of longing in Blaine's chest.

He hadn't felt it in over a year – this independent streak, the need to express his true self, no matter what others said. The uniformity and safe containment of Dalton suited him, helped him breathe easier and calm his inner demons after what had happened at his old school. He'd thought the amount of letting go he enjoyed in singing with the Warblers was enough. Now, however... he was not so sure. Something deep and forgotten was waking up to life again.

* * *

Kurt was _flying_ down the stairs and into Blaine's waiting arms as soon as the song ended, and the _good – right – perfect_ feeling when their bodies connected in a tight embrace was like nothing else he'd ever experienced. It was like pieces clicking together, like a warm bath after a cold evening, like being exactly where he belonged. It was what perfect happiness must have felt like.

Well, almost perfect. Because there were too many layers between them where Kurt craved _skin_ – he _needed_ direct contact of bodies right now, and so did Blaine if the way his hands were traveling up and down Kurt's bare arms was any indication. But this was not a place to get closer, not when Puck was whooping at them from the stage already, the rest of the group pretending not to watch them, but stealing badly concealed curious glances. Tina smiled at them knowingly.

"Come on." Kurt grabbed his bag and discarded jacket and pulled Blaine by the hand towards the exit. Two of the nearest classrooms were locked, but the next door gave way and they stumbled inside, clinging together as soon as it closed behind them, their bags landing on the floor with a thump.

Blaine's hands were under Kurt's t-shirt immediately, broad and so warm, and he moaned a little at the absolute pleasure of touch. It wasn't even sexual – just the need to be close, skin on skin, finally satisfied after so many hours apart. He tugged at Blaine's uniform shirt with impatient fingers to pull it free of his pants and finally – _finally _his fingers connected with that one perfect spot over Blaine's hip and –

_Yes_. That's what he needed, _exactly _what he yearned for, especially when Blaine followed suit, pushing Kurt's shirt up to cover his mark with his palm.

Kurt could feel his body calm down, wave upon wave of _better_ descending upon him until he felt right again, focused and centered and complete. Only then did they kiss, slow and sweet, a little breathless. Kurt leaned his forehead against Blaine's when they parted, their hands still holding onto skin but less urgent already. It was enough, for now.

"Never again." Blaine groaned against Kurt's lips. "I'm not leaving your side for more than twenty-four hours ever again. It was _hell_."

Kurt chuckled softly and kissed him. "I know. I don't think we're gonna have much choice about that, though. What about when I go to New York for Nationals? And I'm sure there will be days when we can't meet before that, too – it's only to be expected when we're at different schools."

"Nope." Blaine pouted. "I refuse. How can people live when they have to be apart more often? I can't imagine functioning like this."

Kurt stroked his back with his free hand. "Well, Tina said it's more like a buzz at the back of her mind now, and it's been seven or eight times for them. So I guess it gets better?"

Blaine shuddered, burrowing closer into their embrace, and Kurt smiled and kissed his temple.

"Come on, let's not worry about it right now. We survived our first separation, that's something to celebrate. And we have all afternoon."

* * *

Kurt closed the door behind Blaine and leaned against it for a moment with a dopey grin. They'd spent a few perfect hours together, first out at the coffeshop and then here at home. It was surprisingly empty until Carole came back from her shift at the hospital ten minutes ago, making Blaine remember he should probably start on the drive home. And god, it was so good...

He unglued himself from the door and ran back upstairs, hoping to get to his window fast enough to catch one last glimpse of Blaine as he crossed the street to his car.

He was out of luck. The car door was just closing as he pushed the curtain aside, and in the darkness under the large tree where Blaine parked he was unable to catch even a glimpse of his profile. Oh well, he would just watch as Blaine drove away, maybe wave to him in case he looked in his rearview mirror.

Except... he didn't drive away. A full minute passed, and then another, and the car still stood there, dark and immobile. Kurt was just considering calling Blaine to ask if everything was alright when his knees nearly went out from under him as another one of those weird non-orgasms hit him like a freight train.

It took a long while until Kurt removed a fist from his mouth, stopped gasping for air and unfolded himself from the floor. By the time he looked through the window again, Blaine's car was gone.

He was just lazily considering jerking off before dinner because those phantom orgasms, while delightful, always left him with a raging hard-on that was hard to ignore, when something clicked in his head, connection sparking. Blaine's car outside... the state they'd been both in while saying goodbye, after an hour of the most delicious making out imaginable... oh.

_Oh._

Was it... could it be... No, surely not? But... it made sense. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made, actually, no matter how much it made him blush. If only he could test his theory somehow–

For the next hour, Kurt was plotting. Or, well, he plotted for ten minutes, and then spent the next fifty wondering if he could go through with it.

He kept his hands firmly away from his pants, even though it meant a certain level of discomfort through dinner. He waited until he received Blaine's text confirming that he'd gotten home safely, then waited some more for him to get settled. And then he shut the door to his room, put on music to keep his family from overhearing, took a deep breath and called.

"So is everything alright with your car?" He started as soon as Blaine greeted him with an enthusiastic _hi_.

"Um, what? Of course, why?" It was clearly nowhere near any question Blaine was expecting. Good. Kurt needed him a little confused. Even if he felt slightly Machiavellian about it.

"Oh, nothing, I was just looking out the window when you left and noticed it took you a really long time to start the car, you know." He kept his voice innocently curious.

"Wait, you watched me out there?" It sounded almost panicked.

"Well not _you_, technically, I couldn't see you in the darkness. Just your car. I planned to wave goodbye as you were driving away, but then you weren't and I started to worry..."

Blaine latched onto the _worry_ just like Kurt knew he would.

"Oh, no, Kurt, it was nothing like that. Everything's fine with my car. Everything's fine, period."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was just... thinking about you."

"You were sitting in your car in front of my house thinking about me?"

Blaine groaned. "Well... I needed a minute. I was trying to get you out of my head before the drive – but... your skin, your mouth, those little sounds that you made... God, you're really distracting, Kurt, you know? You don't want me driving distracted, do you?"

"No, of course not. So... how did you deal with your distractedness?" Kurt let the teasing bleed into his voice. He could practically see Blaine squirm when he spoke.

"Um. I."

"Blaine?"

"I... took care of it?"

"_Blaine Anderson_, are you saying what I think you're saying?" Kurt put on his best scandalized tone.

Blaine sounded defensive now. "Well I was distracted and unable to sit straight, and this little thing you do with your tongue makes me shiver just thinking about it and... how was I supposed to drive like that, Kurt? But okay, now that you say it... I'm sorry, it was creepy, I wasn't really thinking–"

Kurt laughed brightly, interrupting before Blaine managed to spiral into full-fledged guilt. "No, not creepy, it's alright. I don't mind. I just wanted to get you to tell me."

"You..." Blaine paused, swallowed thickly. "You wanted me to admit that I jerked off in my car. Because you were too hot for me to wait until I was at home."

"Yup. Thank you."

Blaine let out an incredulous sound. "Kurt Hummel. I will _never_ fully understand this complicated mind of yours."

"Oh good, then you won't get bored with me. Okay, get back to your homework, and call me later to say goodnight."

* * *

He took his time. In the privacy of the shower, with blissfully hot water drumming against his skin and muffling any stray sounds that may escape him, Kurt let his hand slide down his body and rest exactly where he'd ached for it for hours now. And then he did something he'd never done before: he let himself think of Blaine while he stroked himself slowly – of the plush heaven of his lips, the way his fingers curled and dug in Kurt's skin when his breath picked up, of that helpless little whimper he let out when Kurt pressed him onto the bed this afternoon.

His hand picking up speed and breath hitching, Kurt let himself get even bolder, take one more step. In his head, there were no longer any clothes between his heated skin and Blaine's; they were naked and wanting, and it was Blaine's hand on his cock, making him bite his lip to hold in the moans, making him _come_–

It was a heroic effort to stay quiet and his whole body was shaking, and he ended up on the floor because his legs were no longer able to support him as he tried to catch his breath coming down from what was surely the most intense orgasm of his life, and _wow_. Why hadn't he always done it like this?

He didn't give Blaine too much time – assuming he needed any time at all, which was yet to be determined – only as much as Kurt needed to get himself dried off, into his PJs and to bed, in the safe darkness of his room. If he was right, it wasn't a conversation he was quite ready for in the light of day.

Blaine was breathless and dazed when he picked up his phone, and if Kurt had any doubts left at all after their earlier conversation, they just evaporated in a small cloud of steam.

"Hey. Are you alright?"

"Yes. No. I don't... something weird just happened to me and–"

Kurt hummed happily. "I know."

"No, but really... wait. You _know_?"

"Mhm. For the record, I think this is exactly what I felt when you were in your car earlier tonight."

It took a moment to sink in, but when it did, Blaine's voice got squeaky. "Wait, you mean– You were–" He seemed to choke a little on the next words so Kurt decided to be gracious and help him out.

"I was just taking a shower. And... _thinking_ about you." Blaine stayed silent, his breathing fast and erratic in the speaker, so Kurt added, helpfully. "It was a very nice shower."

"Yes, I think I know how nice it was." Blaine said, his voice weak. Then he seemed to shake out of it a little. "Oh my god, Kurt, no, I need to ask. I'm sorry. Did I just... channel your orgasm?"

"Looks like it. It's interesting, isn't it?"

"Interesting is one word to use..." Blaine still seemed dazed, incredulous. "But... why aren't you more freaked out? You don't even seem surprised!"

Right. Here came the hard part. "Well... it wasn't the first time. I've just never connected the dots until tonight."

"It wasn't... Oh god," Blaine sounded like he was going to faint. "When did it start?"

"Let me think... around Christmas?"

Blaine whimpered. "You felt it... every time I've gotten off since Christmas?"

"I don't know. How often _do _you get off?"

"I can't believe we're having this conversation." Blaine mumbled, then seemed to perk up. "Wait, how come I've never felt that before? You never...?"

"I've never let myself think about you... during. Before."

"Oh. _Oh_, so you're saying it only transfers when we're thinking of each other?" Blaine was clearly starting to process it. Good.

"It seems so."

"Okay." There was a pause then, and Kurt could almost see the cogwheels in Blaine's head spinning frantically. "Should I... stop thinking of you then?"

Kurt felt his cheeks burn with a sudden blush. "Um... As long as you're reasonably sure I'm not somewhere in public or, I don't know, eating dinner with my family? I don't mind. At all. Do you?"

"God no. Feel free to think about me all you want. It's... insanely hot. Weird, right now, but I'll get over it. And who else gets to feel their boyfriend's orgasm? It may be the best side effect of these marks so far." Blaine was getting bubbly now, excited, and Kurt smiled into his pillow.

He hadn't had time to consider all the implications of this new development yet, but something told him it was going to be a _lot _of fun.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Testing the new side effect of their marks was like being granted a wish Blaine never knew he had. It was awkward at first – they didn't talk about it when they met the day after that phone conversation, and there was a lot of furious blushing on both parts. Every time Blaine thought of touching himself after he came home that night, the realization that Kurt would _know_ was both mortifying and really, really hot.

But around midnight, the second ever phantom orgasm – as Blaine called it – nearly brought him to his knees in the kitchen when he was grabbing a glass of milk before bed. Thankfully, neither of his parents were near enough to wonder why their son clutched the open fridge door for a good three minutes, moaning quietly and gasping for breath.

By the time he got back to his room, his reservations were mostly gone. Kurt was clearly fine with it, his recent act like an open invitation, and Blaine wasn't going to reject it.

Afterwards, Kurt called him, sleepy and clearly blissed out, to say goodnight, and it almost felt like falling asleep together after sex – except for the part where they were an hour away from each other.

For the next few days they took turns surprising each other with orgasms at random intervals, increasingly silly and giddy as they texted or talked afterwards, and it became easier every time until they were finally able to talk about it face to face without averting their eyes and blushing.

* * *

"God, I wish I could see you come. I can _feel _you, which is more than most people will ever get, but god, actually seeing you... it's all I've been able to think about since, you know, _that_ night. Every time I got off this week, it's been to this picture in my head."

It was Tuesday and they were in Blaine's room, and apparently kissing Kurt for the last hour had removed Blaine's filter because he had _not_ planned to say any of this. Out loud.

Well, at least his face had been hidden in the enticing, vulnerable curve of Kurt's neck when his mouth decided to betray him, so he didn't have to actually see his boyfriend's reaction. That is, until a gentle hand under his chin made him look up.

Kurt... didn't look shocked. Tousled and flushed and wide-eyed – but not shocked at all.

"Me too," he breathed, the words settling low in Blaine's belly, a delicious tug of excitement.

"Really?" He felt breathless, lightheaded, and Kurt nodded. "So... maybe we could–"

Kurt kissed him, deep and hungry, but pulled off after mere seconds. "We will. But not today. I have to go in ten minutes, fifteen at the latest. I don't want it to be in a hurry. Next time?"

"Next time." Blaine echoed, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. "Can we still kiss now, though?"

* * *

Being together like this – all of their dates, phone calls, experiments, dozens of text messages – was the best; the sweetest part of every day. But it wasn't enough to block out the ache of being apart the rest of the time.

Blaine felt like he was exaggerating, or simply whining, blowing this whole distance thing out of proportion. Plenty of boys at Dalton only saw their girlfriends a few times a week, or even just on the weekends, and it was no big deal. There were other things to fill his time with – classes, friends, the Warblers, his piano lessons and boxing, to name few. His life didn't have to revolve around his boyfriend. Except now that Kurt was back at McKinley, all those other things felt like such a chore – a feeling he'd never had when they'd spent most of their days at Dalton if not together, then at least in each other's vicinity. Now, the distance between them was a constant presence in Blaine's mind. It was distracting.

The separation sickness only made things worse, of course.

In spite of their promises to try and not let it happen again, it did – and not even a week after the first time. Kurt called him on Wednesday, just as Blaine was leaving Warblers practice, to tell him he had a friend-related emergency and wouldn't be able to make it to their date afterall. Blaine barely held in the groan at the news. They were supposed to be alone at his house again, and he'd been giddily excited about it all day, and now the prospect of anything that he hoped might happen behind his closed bedroom door would have to wait until next week at least. Knowing what was in store for tonight only made the disappointment harder.

This time, he was prepared for the awful symptoms, but it didn't make them any more bearable. Kurt called him as soon as he came home around ten, already shivering, and they ended up talking on the phone until two in the morning (which helped a little), and then, at Kurt's bashful suggestion, _staying_ on the phone (thank god for the headsets) – no longer talking as they tested one more way to ease the separation and get some sleep before morning.

Listening to Kurt's soft little moans, and then the high, breathless "_Blaine_" as he came was the hottest thing ever. And a real orgasm seconds after the channeled one was something his body was not prepared for, judging by the fact that afterwards, he fell asleep so fast it felt like a black out. Well, at least he slept, if only for a few hours.

Nothing could keep him in bed after dawn though, and once a text from Kurt confirmed that Blaine wasn't the only one awake, they decided to make the most of it and meet at a diner halfway between their houses before school. They only had a few minutes together, not even enough to come in and eat breakfast – so they just sat in Blaine's car in the crowded parking lot, sneaking quick, covert touches of each other's marks until they could breathe easier and think clearly. They parted with a short, sweet kiss to start their respective school days, much calmer.

That was two days ago. And now it was the weekend – which was _their _time, the only chance to spend more than a couple of hours together – and Kurt was bailing on him again.

Yes, Blaine knew of Sam's family predicament already, and he was sympathetic, he really was. And Kurt was an amazing friend, offering to drive Sam around, helping him look for another job, and then babysitting his younger siblings with Quinn – so involved that his own plans fell second. And honestly, it was one of the things Blaine loved about Kurt, this passion he put into everything, be it shopping, performing, or helping his friends.

But the selfish part of him was in a full-fledged rebellion at the thought of a whole long Saturday alone at home, followed by another unbearable night where his body would literally ache for Kurt. It wasn't fair.

He didn't say it out loud, though. It was just that – him being selfish. He shouldn't make a mountain out of a molehill. So he just said it was okay, and found things to do all day while Kurt was too busy to even text, and then he went to bed early without much hope for any rest, and with a short goodnight text to Kurt instead of a call. Which, okay, might have been a little passive aggressive of him.

God, this distance thing was turning him into a terrible person.

To Blaine's surprise, the separation jitters seemed milder this time, and he actually managed to fall asleep after merely an hour of tossing and turning, obsessing whether or not he should call Kurt afterall. Sunday morning found him well-rested, but desperate to get to Lima, and deeply ashamed of his last night's behavior.

It couldn't go on like this. Something had to be done. And he knew exactly what it should be.

The day spent with Kurt and a few of his New Directions friends only deepened his conviction. They went to the mall, and Blaine had never had so much fun clothes-shopping before. He didn't really need new clothes, since he spent most of his time in Dalton uniforms, but... what if it changed? What if he could wear whatever he chose again, anytime he wanted, not just on weekends? And Kurt's expression when he saw Blaine in some of the clothes he picked for him to try on – skinny jeans and colorful shirts, and bowties... Blaine would be very interested to see this expression more often. Like every morning at school, perhaps. Every morning he met Kurt at his locker. At McKinley.

The thought alone was enough to make Blaine's skin tingle with excitement.

The idea had been there, nibbling at his brain, for a few weeks already. Now, it just felt like the right moment had come. It was time.

Blaine spent the drive home rehearsing arguments and speeches in his head. About how the world outside wasn't like Dalton. How he'd needed the safety right after what happened at his old school, but now that he was fine again, it was time to face his demons. How it would surely be better if his parents could save money on the tuition and maybe put it into his college fund, instead.

It all felt very reasonable and mature, not a word about a boyfriend or missing the freedom of being himself and spreading his wings. It should work, right? What problem could his parents have with him transferring to McKinley?

The transfer would take some time, so it was unlikely he would be able to surprise Kurt tomorrow morning, but maybe in a few days? A week, at most? He could even go to Nationals with New Directions if they let him join so late in the year. It would be perfect.

The plan was flawless.

Except the conversation after dinner – while very civilized at first – went nowhere near the way Blaine hoped.

* * *

Kurt crept down the stairs as fast as he could without risking unnecessary noise, his stomach clenching and heart in full gallop. He made it halfway to the door before his father's voice caught up with him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

_Shit._ They were supposed to be asleep already.

Clearly they weren't, though. Both his dad and Carole were in the kitchen, sitting at the table over cups of... something, and looking expectantly at Kurt. Well, his dad was expectant; Carole just looked concerned. No wonder, he must have been quite a view, considering he'd already showered and done his evening routine before the emotions hit in earnest. His hair was soft and unstyled and his clothes... Kurt took a quick look down at himself. Green pajama pants and a soft red henley, the first thing that fell into his hands when he opened his closet in a hurry. Not the best combination.

His dad was still waiting for an answer, a frown slowly forming on his forehead, so Kurt struggled to sound composed as he spoke. He mostly failed.

"I just... I have to go see Blaine."

The frown only deepened. "You just saw Blaine, what, four hours ago? Listen, buddy, I know you two are close and all, but there are limits. Like sneaking out at night."

Kurt's hands were shaking by now, the foreign feelings pounding in his head, screaming at him to just _go already_, and he almost sobbed aloud.

"Dad, please. He needs me."

His father's face softened immediately. "Why, what happened? Did he call you? Does he need to be picked up somewhere or–"

"No, no, I don't know, he didn't call, I just... something's wrong, dad, please. Just let me go see him."

"Okay, kid, I'm sorry, but you have to give me more than _something's wrong_. How do you know?"

His dad patted the stool next to him and Kurt gritted his teeth and came over to perch on the edge. He was desperate to go, but he knew there was no way they would let him without a good explanation. And the only one he could offer... was the truth. It had to come out sooner or later, and now there was no reason to hide it anyway.

Carole was already boiling the water, a packet of chamomile tea waiting on the counter – clearly it didn't escape her how jittery Kurt was. He took a deep breath and started, trying to keep it as short and simple as possible, Blaine's emotions still a mess in his head, making it hard to focus.

"There's this... thing happening lately to some people, where suddenly a kind of... mark appears on their skin. A name. Not just in Lima – everywhere, and no one knows what it means yet."

The look on his dad's face was a picture of disbelief and suspicion, and Kurt's heart sank. If he had to go all the way upstairs to get his laptop and show him the articles now–

"Wait, I heard about it." Carole put the cup in front of Kurt. "We got a memo at the hospital a few weeks ago, but I've never seen anyone actually have it."

Oh thank god. Kurt nodded, relieved, and simply pulled down the neck of his henley. Carole gasped. His dad frowned.

"_Blaine Anderson_, huh?"

"Blaine has a matching one." Kurt said, and winced as a stronger wave of need hit him.

"Matching?"

"He has _my_ name. And I don't know how, but sometimes we can feel each other's emotions through it, that's how I know something's wrong. Can I go now? We'll talk about it more tomorrow, I'll tell you everything I know, just... dad."

His father was silent for a moment – every breath one too many for Kurt – before saying. "Okay, it's a lot to take in all at once. So what is it that you feel now? What do you think happened?"

"I don't know!" Kurt groaned, frustrated. "I can't _feel_ what is wrong, just his emotions when they're strong enough. And I've never felt him from this far away before, so... He was so _angry_ a while ago, and then more and more brokenhearted, and miserable, and I just feel that he really needs me now. Dad, please, can I go?"

His father shook his head slowly, his face apologetic. "Kurt... I don't think it's a good idea."

"_What_? But I told you... I explained, I need to, _dad_–" His voice broke, throat clenching.

"Kurt, hear me out. Even if I let you go – then what? It's almost midnight. Would you just knock on the door and ask Blaine's parents to see him? And say what?"

"No, I–"

"No, he'd sneak you in, right? I understand, Kurt. You care and you want to be with him. But I'm not okay with you spending the night in your boyfriend's room."

"But we–"

"I can't yet wrap my head around that _thing_ you're speaking of, but from what you said, it doesn't sound like Blaine is hurt or that anything really bad is going on, right?"

"No, but he _needs me_!"

"And you can go back to your room and call him. You can even do that video-talking thing if you want. But you're not going to Blaine in the middle of the night, Kurt – not unless there's a real emergency."

Kurt fumed and ground his teeth but he knew it was no use protesting. If he put aside the emotional storm in his head – which was starting to calm down now, anyway – he had to reluctantly admit his father was probably kind of right. Knowing that Blaine was upset, that he needed Kurt, and not being able to be by his side in a heartbeat was torture, but he couldn't really blame his dad for saying no to his staying at Blaine's overnight. And they both had school in the morning. And okay, if he were honest, he was probably too jittery and unfocused to drive safely anyway.

It didn't stop him from storming out of the kitchen.

* * *

Blaine picked up on the first ring. He sounded a little stuffed up, like he might have been crying, and Kurt's heart ached.

"Hey, baby. Are you alright? What happened there?"

"Oh. So you felt." It wasn't a question, just a resigned statement.

"I did, even all the way over here. I was halfway out the door but my dad stopped me."

Blaine exhaled shakily. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad he did. It wouldn't be a good idea for you to come here right now."

His voiced sounded off in a way Kurt had never heard before, and a sudden shot of fear ran through him. This time, he wasn't sure if it was Blaine's, or his own.

"Why not? What's wrong?" He must have sounded at least a little panicked because Blaine hurried to calm him down.

"No, don't worry. I'm fine, just... I had a fight with my parents. They're still up and arguing downstairs, and if you turned up in the middle of this, it would be the worst thing possible."

"Oh." Suddenly, Kurt felt kind of stupid. In all of his guesses about what was wrong, he hadn't thought of this. "What happened?"

"I... told them about us."

"_Oh_. I thought you didn't want to tell them, not yet at least." They'd talked about it, and it stung a little, but Kurt understood. And now–

"I didn't. We were talking about something else, just a rational discussion, or so I thought, and then they said some things and it got emotional and I... I snapped. I got angry and I snapped, and of course I only made matters worse." Blaine took a shaky breath, his voice coming out choked when he spoke again. "God, Kurt, I never wanted to tell them like this. I knew they wouldn't be half as accepting as your family but at least I wanted to do it on my own terms, because you and me, it's something beautiful. Something that I'm proud of, that makes me happy. And the way it came out tonight... I'm so sorry, Kurt. I wish I had kept my mouth shut."

Kurt curled up on the bed the way he wanted to curl safely, protectively against Blaine.

"Hey, no, shh, it's okay. They would learn sooner or later, and whatever they think or say, it doesn't change anything. I love you, and what we have is special. Nothing can change that."

He could hear sheets rustling on the other end. "I know. I love you too, I just wish they could see how happy it makes me to have you in my life. Isn't it what they should care about? Not the gender of the person I love?" Blaine sighed wearily. "God, I wish you could be here. Just so you could hold me, and I could fall asleep with you."

Kurt's heart ached for it. "I know, honey. I want that, too. One day in the future, when we live together–" he broke off, suddenly embarrassed. It was way too early in their relationship to talk about these things – or even admit that he thought about it sometimes.

But then he heard Blaine smile over the phone. "I can't wait." A pause, and then, shyly. "Tell me how you see it."

Kurt took a deep breath, his cheek growing hot against the pillow, but then he closed his eyes and started, quietly.

"Well I don't know about you, but I've been thinking New York, maybe?–"


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15**

Not a day passed this week without Blaine regretting he'd told his parents that he had a boyfriend. It wasn't that they were giving him a hard time over it – not really, considering they didn't touch the subject. They were just so _attentive_ all of the sudden, it made everything much more complicated.

Blaine was used to being left to fend for himself. Having his own credit card to pay for gas and other basic needs, barely any parental control over his whereabouts – that was his normalcy and had been for a few years now. So the way his parents were suddenly interested in everything about his life, from his grades and academic achievements to his gas expenses and what he was doing in his free time was honestly disconcerting. Not to mention annoying, especially when it interfered with his _Kurt time_. He should study more, drive around less and definitely spend more time with his family, he was told.

They were trying, Blaine could tell – his mom was home most afternoons this week, and even his father came in from work in time for dinner. They tried to initiate actual family time, too – watching TV together one evening, going to a restaurant they all liked two days later. But any attempts at conversation were falling short – be it from lack of practice over the last few years, or the fact that his parents kept carefully avoiding anything even _remotely_ related to Blaine's sexuality.

It didn't really leave them with many topics because, well, it was just one of the things that made him _him_, an inseparable part of his everyday life and experiences, not something that could be forgotten, a bad habit that could be glanced over. How could he talk about himself out of this context? He had a boyfriend and a past that was at least in part shaped by the fact that he was gay. He had issues resulting from said past that still influenced his daily life in one way or another, and his dreams and plans all included Kurt. It was really quite impossible to avoid the topic altogether. But Blaine's father in particular seemed to be dead set on avoiding it, and the result was a lot of stumbling over awkward pauses before they settled on superficial, neutral subjects again.

Still, Blaine appreciated the effort, he really did. He just didn't know what exactly they were trying to achieve. Because so far, it seemed to bring all of them more frustration than anything else. And not just the domestic kind.

Between his mom being home more often and Kurt's family always looking in on them or engaging them in whatever they were doing every time they were there, Blaine had been unable to do anything more than steal a chaste kiss from his boyfriend all week. And with last week's developments and their promise of _next time_... well, their hormones were going sort of crazy.

So when Saturday morning came and Kurt texted that he had a surprise for him that afternoon, Blaine's mind immediately shot to empty houses and time alone, and he grinned into his pillow. It took a lot of effort to talk his way out of going shopping with his mom – which was definitely not his idea of fun even if the alternative wasn't Kurt – but he managed, and mere hours later he was sitting opposite Kurt at the Breadstix table, trying to look calm and composed while internally he shook with happy anticipation.

* * *

"Give me your hand."

Kurt was so excited he was practically bouncing with some news he couldn't seem to contain for long, and for a second, absurdly, Blaine thought _He's going to tell me he's coming back to Dalton_.

He wasn't.

"Blaine Warbler," the nickname still made Blaine chuckle every time it was used. "Will you go to junior prom with me?"

The chuckle died on his lips. _Oh._

"_Prom_?" That was the big surprise?

"It will be the social event of the season." Kurt grinned and bounced in his seat, but then his face fell. "You don't want to go to prom with me?"

"No, no no, of course I want to go with you." Blaine stuttered, unwelcome images already crowding his mind, making him dizzy. "It's just." He took a steadying breath. "Prom."

"What about prom, Blaine?" Kurt arched an eyebrow. He still looked slightly hurt but clearly could sense Blaine's discomfort now. His hand, withdrawn a moment ago, returned to hold Blaine's over the table.

He didn't really want to talk about it. It was in the past. But this was Kurt, and he deserved to know, so Blaine swallowed to try and dislodge the lump stuck in his throat.

"At my old school, there was a Sadie Hawkins dance," he started, "and... I had _just_ come out. So I asked a friend of mine, the only other gay guy in the school. While we were waiting for his dad to pick us up, these three guys... um." It was getting harder to speak, memories swirling in his head, painfully sharp and vivid, suffocating. "Beat the living crap out of us." That was the closest to the truth he could get right now, and he hoped Kurt wouldn't ask for details. Surprised like this, thrown back into the shadows of that dreadful night without a warning, he wouldn't be able to keep calm, and he didn't have his meds with him.

Kurt didn't ask. He looked stunned, his eyes wide and tearful.

"I... I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"I'm out, and I'm proud, this is just... a sore spot." Blaine rushed to reassure him, and Kurt squeezed his suddenly sweaty hand.

"No, I understand. Let's forget about prom. We'll go to a movie instead."

The rush of relief, of pressure lifting, made him lightheaded.

"I'm _crazy_ about you."

* * *

That should have been the end. But as Blaine drove home that night, the thought wouldn't leave him.

He was still running. Over a year had passed, and he was still running away from his past. He'd let the bullies chase him away from his old school, from himself, to the golden cage that was Dalton. He'd let them steal his sense of safety, his confidence, let them haunt him even now, after all this time. He was still on the run.

Maybe it was time to stop and face his fears. It would be hard and scary, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to do it just for himself, by himself.

But he wasn't by himself anymore.

* * *

His parents were in the living room when he came home, and Blaine took it as a sign that he should just get on with it right away. He entered the room and sat down in the armchair opposite them, slightly trembling hands folded in his lap. His mom lowered her book.

"Hello, honey. How was your day?"

"It was good. We went to lunch and had coffee with some friends, and then watched a movie."

"It sounds nice." His mom's smile was only slightly off. It was clearly hard not think who exactly _we_ entailed when Blaine had referred to his outing as a _date_ this morning. Loudly and repeatedly.

"It was. Actually, I wanted to let you know that I have plans for next weekend."

"Oh?" Even his father looked up over his business magazine now. Blaine hardly ever told them of his plans, let alone a week in advance.

"Yeah, I'm going to junior prom at McKinley. With Kurt." He was proud of how smoothly it came out, no nervous stutter at all.

His mom's book hit the carpeted floor with a muted _thump_. But it was his father who spoke.

"You're doing no such thing. Did you forget what happened the last time you had a brilliant idea to go to a dance with another guy? One would think it had taught you something."

Blaine took a steadying breath and looked into the cool grey eyes, determined not to flinch, not to let them provoke him this time.

"No, dad. It didn't teach me anything because I fled. I didn't give myself a chance to learn. And yes, I know I needed it back then, but the truth is, it's something that I regret to this day." Something like surprise ran over his father's usually stoic features. It was the first time Blaine had said it to anyone but Kurt. He glanced at his mom. Her eyes were wide and glassy. "I've been _hiding_ for the last year, and I've had enough. I understand that you don't want me to change schools now, fine. But I want to do _this_ at least. I'm not the same kid I was back then. I'm stronger, I know how to defend myself if needed. I'll be with my boyfriend and our friends, and I'll be smart, no going out alone. But I need to do this, to face the bullies at his school at least, together, since I wasn't able to face them at mine."

Frankly, he expected a decisive _no_. He had no plan for that scenario, all of his arguments spent in the first round. But his mom asked instead, her voice tight.

"There are bullies?"

"Of course there are bullies, mom, it's a high school in Ohio. The whole world is full of bullies and I can't change it. This is my life, mine and Kurt's. There will always be bullies and homophobes and all kinds of assholes, and I can only learn to face them because I sure as hell can't avoid them forever, Dalton or not."

"Language." His father quipped, then took his time closing his magazine and putting it away, carefully straightening the whole stack before he continued. "Fine. If you think you're ready to make such a decision, even knowing what the consequences may be, then I won't stop you."

Blaine looked at him, incredulous. "Really?"

"Really. I still think it's a bad idea. But you're old enough to learn from your own mistakes." He got up and walked over to the liquor cabinet to pour himself some whiskey. The conversation was clearly over, and Blaine still couldn't believe the outcome.

"I... you... thank you, dad."

* * *

He called Kurt as soon as he got back to his room.

"I'll go."

"What? Where?" Kurt sounded confused and a bit distracted, sounds of his family in the background, and Blaine grinned.

"I'll go to prom with you."

Even if he hadn't heard the happy squeal, he would have felt Kurt's reaction. It was a sweeping wave of surprised, bubbly joy that left him warm all over and made it easy to push any lingering doubts and apprehension to the back burner of his mind.

* * *

"And now, the 2011 McKinley High prom queen, with an overwhelming number of write-in votes, is... _Kurt Hummel_."

Figgins' thoughtlessly surprised frown. The lights – too bright, too harsh – finding Kurt in the crowd. Sudden silence around him, broken by a whoop, a laugh, solitary applause. Faces everywhere, a sea of faces all turning towards him, carefully blank or sneering or openly hostile. Everything seemed hyperreal, every detail sharp like a movie with resolution too high for the human eye to watch.

Kurt ran.

He'd been _so stupid_. He thought that his coming back, and everything that led to it, had changed something, that some kind of progress had been made with Karofsky's apologies and the Bully Whips and the chapter of PFLAG they were starting now. But _nothing_ had changed. The hate was still there, strong as ever – maybe _stronger_, since it didn't have an easy way out now. They couldn't push him against lockers anymore, or yell slurs in his face, so they showed him what they thought in a different way. A silent way. Whispers instead of shouts.

He barely heard the footsteps behind him, Blaine's voice calling his name, begging him to stop, over the pounding in his head. But he did stop. There was nowhere to run anyway. Even if he wanted to, the was no escape from this.

Blaine's face was pale and worried when Kurt whipped around to look at him. He didn't try to come closer or touch Kurt or – god forbid – hug and comfort him, and Kurt was _so_ grateful because he felt like he'd suffocate if he didn't have space around him right now. But this was Blaine. He knew. He understood.

This was Blaine, so Kurt just let go, let the mess of emotions out, let himself rage and rant and cry the angry tears, open like he never was with anyone, except maybe his dad. He had only enough strength to either hold up his walls and pretend to be fine, or deal with his feelings right now, but not both, and while with anyone else he'd have chosen the former, this was Blaine. So with a blind trust that he'd be accepted even at his most raw and vulnerable, Kurt let the anger and the fear and the heartbreak run through him, unhidden. A sweeping wave that came and hurt and shook him, and then passed, and Blaine was still there, patiently waiting with no expectations, no ready-made advice to force upon him. Just a soft "So what do you want to do?" and those eyes, full of awe and love when Kurt decided. And then a hand, strong and steady in his, all the support he needed.

The hand that was there again ten minutes later when the music started and Karofsky fled, leaving Kurt humiliated – _again, would this never end?_ – and alone in the empty circle of the dance floor, with every eye and every light on him, the plastic crown on his head heavy like lead. Blaine's hand was a lifeline, a promise, and right there, even though Kurt could feel the fear radiating from him even through his own emotions.

He'd never loved Blaine more than in this moment.

Stepping into his arms, even just as close as the situation allowed for the dance, was like home, the safest place there was for Kurt. Their skin touching was instant comfort on what felt like a cellular level; he could feel his mind and body calm down within seconds.

They were together, this was what counted. They were there for each other, and with each other, always, and no one could touch them, or what they had. Ever.

* * *

"Mr. Hummel?"

Blaine had left Kurt alone just for a moment, _I'll be right back_ whispered into his ear, with no response.

He found Kurt's dad in the kitchen, his face grim, and this was probably too much, what he was going to ask for, too forward – but he would ask anyway. There was no room to be nervous right now; he needed to do this, for Kurt.

"Blaine. How is he?"

"He's... overwhelmed. It really got to him, what they did, those fuc– _um_. Sorry. It just... I can't stand feeling him so brokenhearted because of a bunch of... _ugh_." Apparently he still couldn't talk about it without swearing, so he shut up.

Kurt's dad nodded. His eyes looked bloodshot and tired. "How about you?"

"Me?" It was such a strange question.

"Kurt told me you have a... history, with school dances."

_Oh_. Blaine honestly had to stop and think. There had been no time, no room in him yet to measure his own emotions. "I... I've been better." He admitted finally. "But I'll be fine."

Another nod. "Do you have to go now?"

Blaine took a deep breath. "Actually, that's what I... I know it's a lot to ask, but... would you let me stay with Kurt tonight? Just to be there for him. I think – I _know _– he really needs it right now. Needs _me_." He felt his cheeks warm up with blush. It wasn't a thing he had ever thought he'd say to his boyfriend's father.

Mr. Hummel looked at him without saying a word for a moment, eyes piercing, inquisitive. "So... you _can_ feel him, then, the way he says this connection or whatever works? You two really have this crazy name thing?"

Blaine was already untucking his shirt, nodding. He couldn't help but brush the name on his skin as the cool air hit it.

"They say it means some kind of destiny, I read, when two people have each other's." Kurt's father said. He was looking at the mark with an unreadable expression and Blaine felt like squirming under his gaze. "Soulmates, some even call it."

"I know." Blaine said softly. He secretly loved that word.

"What do you think?"

"I think they're right."

Mr. Hummel got up and busied himself with pouring a glass of water, his face turned away from Blaine. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Do you need me to call your parents to tell them you're staying?"

"Um, no, thank you. I will deal with them." He'd have to lie, of course, but that was the least of his worries right now_._

Kurt's father looked like he knew, but he just nodded.

"Okay. Go to Kurt, kid." Blaine was already on the move but he stopped and turned when he heard his name again. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"Of course, Mr. Hummel."

"And for god's sake, call me Burt."

* * *

Kurt was curled on the bed, still in his prom outfit, the way Blaine left him five minutes ago. He looked small and vulnerable now, no longer the fierce boy who'd gone up on that stage to take the prom queen crown and title like he was born for it. Now he just looked exhausted and broken. Blaine kneeled by the bed and started unlacing Kurt's boots.

"Come on baby. Let's get you into PJs and to bed."

Kurt stirred and looked up at him, his eyes wide and glassy. "Do you have to go soon?"

"No." He pulled off one boot, then the other, and put them neatly away by the end of the bed. "I'm not going anywhere. I talked to your dad and... I can stay the night. Here with you."

Kurt hadn't cried yet – not since that moment outside the gym. Not when he'd asked to go home instead of to the party with the rest of New Directions. Not in the car or while recounting the events to his dad, not even when they were finally alone in his room. Everything had been growing and swelling inside him until he seemed ready to burst with too much emotions. But he hadn't cried.

Until now.

It was as if Blaine's promise to stay burst the dam, as if it was the permission to let go. The next thing Blaine knew, he had an armful of sobbing boyfriend pressed tightly against his chest, wave upon wave of misery rushing through his own brain until he felt his eyes sting and overflow.

It was so fucking unfair, what they had done, those cowardly, faceless haters. Just a cruel, mean joke that was probably funny for them – and so much pain. This was what the world had in store for them; this was what they were up against. Hundreds – _thousands_ of people like those. It felt so hopeless sometimes.

"We'll be okay. They can't break us."

Kurt's voice was scratchy but he wasn't crying anymore, just curled against his chest, his hand sliding under Blaine's shirt to press protectively against the name there. Blaine wanted to mimic the move, but Kurt was still fully dressed, his shirt buttoned up, the bowtie tight against the collar, and it was too much, too hard to fight all those layers right now. He whined faintly and Kurt let go of him and pushed up to stand. His eyes still bright from tears, but calm now, certain, he slid off his jacket and untied the bowtie.

"Let's go to bed, shall we?"

* * *

They both showered quickly, separately. Blaine took a moment to call his parents with an easy lie about the post-prom party they were supposed to be at; Kurt went to say goodnight to his dad. And then they were in bed together, the first time since that night after Rachel's party – the first time as boyfriends, and it felt perfect, exactly what they both needed, as they held each other in the dark.

This was also the most intimate they'd ever been – alone, under the covers together, with the door closed and only the thin cotton of their t-shirts and pajama pants between them. Or – one pair of pants, because Blaine was in his boxer briefs, his bare legs tangled with Kurt's, everything so close and warm, so intense. He really couldn't be blamed for his body reacting. And it didn't matter, anyway. They would just cuddle through the night like this – Kurt's head on his shoulder, his hand over the mark on Blaine's hipbone, his breath tickling Blaine's neck.

Except it wasn't just his breath anymore – Kurt's lips were there, soft and gentle, slowly kissing their way up to his jaw. Kurt's hand slid up under the t-shirt to rest over Blaine's heart, his pinky brushing over a nipple, and Blaine turned his head to capture Kurt's mouth.

They kissed with no hurry, simply enjoying the closeness, the warmth of hands under t-shirts, the luxury of having the whole night together. But Kurt was so tempting – soft skin over firm muscles, his scent all fresh and minty, his quickening breath – and so Blaine stumbled, just a little, falling deeper into a kiss, hard and hungry, until he caught himself and retreated, apologizing. It wasn't the time for this.

Or maybe it was.

The apology was kissed off his lips, any trace of it sucked thoroughly clean as Kurt's tongue dove into his mouth, hot and insistent, and Blaine tangled his fingers into Kurt's silky hair and lost himself in it. He would never get tired of kissing like this, he could do this all through the night, or fall asleep with Kurt's lips on his own, and wake up only to start again.

Kurt's fingers were frantic under Blaine's shirt, dancing over skin and clenching on air, and then Kurt was moving, pressing closer and rolling on top of him, straddling his thighs and sucking on the side of Blaine's neck, and–

Kurt was hard. Hard and pressing right against him, and Blaine almost choked on the moan he was doing his very best to swallow.

"Kurt." It took every last shred of his willpower to say what he was about to say, but he had to, he couldn't just... take advantage of the situation. "Kurt, we can't, come on, not like that, not tonight when you're so upset. I don't want this to happen just to drown out the prom."

"It's not." Kurt raised his head and even in the darkness his eyes were bright and certain, his whisper unwavering. He kept his hips still, but there. "It's not because of that. It's because I want you, and I love you, and the only thing it has to do with what happened earlier is that you take my breath away. You were so brave in there, so stunning, my own real life prince."

"Except you're no damsel in distress, you don't need saving."

"No, but I need to be loved, and you do. You love me so perfectly, Blaine, you make me _feel_ so loved. Honestly, all those people out there, I think half of them are simply jealous because they don't have what we do, and they want to, because they can see how special it is, what we have. And I _love_ _you_, and you're so gorgeous, and so hot and–" Kurt's hips twitched, a sharp press down that made Blaine's eyes roll back in his head. "I want you. Want you so much, want to make you come, want to see you–" Kurt's breath was stuttering now, his hips rolling slowly as he spoke, and Blaine managed to muffle a groan with his hand at the very last second.

"But your dad–"

"We'll be quiet, so quiet, please." Kurt was gasping and kissing his neck. "I'll stop if you want me to, but–"

"No, don't. Don't stop, just... kiss me." He honestly didn't think he'd be able to keep quiet otherwise.

What followed was a slow, delicious build-up as they rocked against each other and shivered and kissed desperately, too sloppy and wet and _perfect_. It was hot under the covers and everything was slowed down and careful because the bed creaked sometimes and because they wanted this to last, to revel in every sensation that seemed multiplied, sublimated by the dark and the silence.

It was too dark to see every detail of Kurt's face when he finally came, tensing and arching up over Blaine, his mouth open in a silent cry, but what Blaine _could_ see was absolutely breathtaking, pushing him over the edge he'd been clinging to so fast he almost forgot to muffle his moan in Kurt's shoulder, right against his mark. And coming together felt... different, not like the phantom orgasms at all. More like an echo of sensations between their bodies and minds, spreading and bouncing back and forth, overwhelming with the completeness of it.

Blaine had read somewhere once that no matter how close two people having sex were, the moment of orgasm was always a solitary experience.

Well, for them it wasn't.

Afterwards, they were cuddly and giggly, and increasingly uncomfortable in the mess between their overheated bodies. Kurt slid off him with a happy sigh, only to groan at the stickiness.

"We need to change, there's no way I'm sleeping in this mess." He paused, eyebrow arching. "Oh. You don't have spare underwear, do you?"

"Nope. Somehow I hadn't predicted my amazing boyfriend might have this kind of plans tonight. He's a perfect gentleman after all, not one to give into the cliché of having sex after prom."

Kurt grinned. "Oh? Sounds classy, that boyfriend of yours. I should meet him some day." He bit his lip then, thoughtful. "But back to the underwear problem... would it be weird if I let you borrow mine?"

Blaine hadn't even thought of it, but... _guh_. He cleared his throat. "Maybe a _little_ weird? But I could live with that."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter warnings: violence.**

* * *

CHAPTER 16

Nationals, the whole New York adventure, had been Kurt's dream for months – getting out of Ohio, even just for a few days, to a place so much bigger, more open, _free_. He wanted it all so badly, getting to see and taste how it could be, what his future could hold, experiencing it all, dreaming big. He couldn't sleep the night before, vibrating with excitement and repacking his suitcase for the third time to make sure he was prepared for every possible fashion opportunity (including, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, being spotted by a talent hunter and swept right from the competition stage to a recording studio or a Broadway audition).

And those few days were everything he'd hoped for – a glimpse of the New York life with its rush, its lights, its possibilities, that left Kurt utterly enchanted. Window-shopping at the designer boutiques – never mind that it would be years before he could afford to actually buy anything at any of them – gave him happy chills. Broadway left him breathless. Merely being there sent his heart into an excited gallop, and when he sneaked into the Gershwin theatre with Rachel, standing on that stage felt so _right_. Like his heart recognized it, like this was where he belonged.

And he did belong here, not just on Broadway, but in the city. For the first time in years, he didn't stand out. There were people in the streets whose outfits made his own feel muted. There were men and women so clearly playing with the gender image that his own looks hardly seemed like a flaw here – not that Kurt considered them to be, but he'd heard enough _girl_ comments over the years to have enough. And the freedom... His eyes stung when he first saw two men kissing hello right at the airport, before they went their way, hand in hand. By the end of the day it no longer took him by surprise every time he saw a same-sex couple, but it kept making him smile – and ache. God, if only Blaine could be here with him...

But Blaine couldn't be there.

In fact, this trip was in many ways a test for them, a challenge. It was the first time they were so far away from each other; first time since becoming boyfriends that they didn't get to meet for more than 48 hours. They had no idea how it would feel – how much the distance affected their connection, how bad the separation sickness would get. Even Tina couldn't help them – she and Mike had never experienced such distance yet.

It turned out to be both more and less bearable than Kurt had expected.

The separation symptoms were milder than ever before, and faded even more the next day. Kurt knew it had to be harder for Blaine, who was stuck in his everyday life back in Ohio instead of being wonderfully distracted by everything around him like Kurt was, but his texts and his voice seemed to confirm that it wasn't that bad. And late on the second night, when all of the girls were already asleep or well on their way, Kurt got the confirmation that their... sexual connection might be slightly weakened by the distance, but was still there.

He couldn't say the same about the emotional one.

In the weeks since they'd discovered that the marks made them channel their most intense emotions, they'd both learned to control it a little, to consciously gauge the emotional state of the other even in the less explosive moments. It was imprecise, only giving them the vague mood rather than specific feelings, but it was comforting nonetheless, like reaching out in the dark and finding the reassurance of the other's presence there.

Except now it didn't work. At all. Kurt kept trying to focus and feel Blaine's mind somewhere out there, his fingers reaching to the mark under his collarbone on instinct, but nothing happened. It was a weird feeling, being aware of all the distance between them diluting their bond. It made him feel untethered and vaguely anxious. Once, he got a faint glimmer of something like distress, but it was so weak and fleeting that he decided he must have imagined it, especially when Blaine answered his concerned text with a sleepy goodnight one.

And want it or not, being in New York made Kurt think about things he wasn't quite ready for. Like college and their inevitable separation.

It sounded completely crazy at their age, especially when they'd only been together for a little over two months so far, but they wanted a future together. And they both wanted to study in New York, so that was not a problem.

No, the problem was the damn age difference.

Of course, Kurt still had over a year until graduation, and anything could happen in that time. He could end up studying somewhere else, closer to home. Their marks could disappear as suddenly as they turned up, they could even break up for some unconceivable reason. But if everything went well...

...they would still end up apart. For the whole school year. States away, unable to meet for weeks, even _months_ on end. With their connection limited by distance, and no way to _touch_.

That last thought made him freeze in the middle of packing the last of his toiletries. Not being able to touch Blaine for _months_? The prospect felt like torture. Not because of the intimate, sexual aspect, though obviously, he would miss that too. But more than that, Kurt couldn't imagine not having access to the ultimate comfort of skin-on-skin contact with Blaine. He didn't know if it was a mark thing or just _their_ thing, but they both craved – _needed _– each other's touch like they needed air. Even just a bit of skin touching, like hands brushing under the table, did the trick – soothing, comforting, reassuring. It felt like his body took Blaine's presence as a promise that it was safe, that everything was alright, no matter how tilted the world might feel at any particular moment. It took the comfort of holding someone's hand, or a hug, to a whole new level. Losing this would be like... well, like going back to the time before he'd met Blaine, made even worse by the fact he now knew the difference.

"Kurt? What's wrong?" Tina took the forgotten toiletry bag out of his hand and put it in his suitcase, and Kurt jerked back to reality.

"Oh! No, nothing, I just thought about... college and the, you know–" He gestured to her wrist. There were too many people around to spell it out.

Tina frowned, but then her eyebrows shot up. "Wait, you said Blaine was on board with studying in New York?"

"He is, but he'll have to graduate first, won't he?" She still looked confused, so Kurt rolled his eyes. "Blaine is a sophomore, Tina."

"He is? I was sure he's your age, he said something once... oh well, I must have misunderstood. Anyway, hey, welcome to our world. Mike is already looking into local programs and community classes to fill up the year before we can both apply to our dream schools."

Kurt stopped in the process of zipping up his suitcase. "Really? And his parents are okay with it?"

Tina shrugged. "Of course. We're soulmates, we're not supposed to be apart, especially for such a long time. Our parents decided it makes more sense than me changing schools and moving away with him for my senior year."

"Wow."

"Why, haven't you thought about it? What do you two plan to do?"

Kurt shook his head, unsure what to say. They've never even talked about the year apart yet. College still felt ages away. Or had, until now.

Loud knocking on the door saved him from answering, Mr. Schue's voice coming through. "I want to see everyone down in the lobby in five minutes. No stalling guys, we have a plane to catch."

Kurt checked his carry-on bag one last time and rolled his suitcase out of the room, taking a chance to escape his friends for a short moment and collect himself. He and Blaine needed to have a serious talk. Just... maybe not yet. It could wait until summer, when they'd have more time together and everything would be easier, more relaxed without school. They could talk then.

If nothing more, it gave Kurt time to think.

* * *

Blaine's mom didn't like Kurt. Not that he'd honestly expected anything else, but a boy can dream, right?

He'd decided it was time for his parents to meet Kurt a week before the school year ended – they had the whole summer to look forward to and other than Blaine's short stint at Six Flags and Kurt's part-time job at his father's garage, those two months looked like paradise, boyfriend-time-wise. It seemed reasonable to start getting his parents used to the sight of the two of them in the same location, especially considering that the Anderson house had a large backyard with a swimming pool and a hammock. It felt criminal not to use those on the inevitably hot summer days, no matter how much Kurt whined about _UV _and _chlorine_ and _mosquitoes_. Blaine knew he would be able to sway him when the time came. He could be _very_ persuasive when needed.

Except now he wasn't sure Kurt would even want to come over anymore if things continued to be the way they were.

They were never home alone. His father hadn't actually met Kurt yet, but his mom... Blaine honestly couldn't remember the last time she had spent so much time at home, especially in the summer when her country club and her friends usually kept her busy. But this year, whenever he announced he'd be inviting Kurt over, his mom just miraculously didn't have anything planned and spent her time puttering loudly around the house or doing things in the backyard. And it wouldn't even be that bad – annoying, yes, but oh well, all parents were like that when their teenage kids wanted time alone, right? But it was not just a question of privacy, or lack of it.

His mom never missed the opportunity to throw Kurt disapproving glances; she wasn't even trying to be subtle about it. And whenever she deigned to speak to Kurt – which wasn't often – her voice was so cold Blaine was pretty sure it made the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. Really, he barely recognized the lovely, gracious hostess she was known to be.

And Blaine could see how hard it was on Kurt. It wasn't killing him the way it would Blaine if he was the one clearly disapproved of – no, Kurt wasn't a people-pleaser, he didn't need acceptance to live. He'd had plenty of ostracism in his life, but it had usually been loud and direct, making it something he could deal with, one way or another: defend himself, snark back, pointedly ignore the hater. But this time, he didn't even get that luxury. Nothing was out in the open and Blaine could see that Kurt was trying so very hard to be polite and not let it affect him, trying for _Blaine's_ sake, but it was frustrating him to no end.

It was only a matter of time before the situation would explode, Blaine knew. And it terrified him. Both Kurt and his mom had a temper, so it wouldn't be pretty.

He tried to talk to his mom, but she acted like there was nothing to talk about, like he exaggerated. And as much as he wanted to believe that the tension would dissolve eventually, it only seemed to grow, leeching away half the pleasure of being with Kurt. So two weeks into the summer vacation, Blaine gave up. They were always welcome at Kurt's house, and even though they had no privacy at all there either, it was better than here.

Kurt frowned when he told him, and it took Blaine all of two seconds to read his reaction.

"No, _no_, Kurt, it's not your fault, they are just... really stupidly stubborn sometimes, and I wish I could do something about it, but it just doesn't work, and I don't want you to have to endure it anymore."

Kurt nodded and kissed him. "I don't care where we are, as long as it's with you."

And that should have been the end of it – it would have been, if they hadn't run into Blaine's mom when they went to the kitchen to get some ice cream. Kurt was up front, greeted with another wordless glare, and Blaine could feel Kurt's restraint _snap_. It happened too fast, he didn't have time to stop Kurt before the words were out.

"Why do you hate me so much? All I've ever done is love your son, is that so wrong?"

_Uh-oh. _Blaine closed his eyes. Here it came.

When he opened them, his mom was standing in front of Kurt, scary despite her tiny form, her eyes flashing with anger.

"Oh yes, of course, you love him _so_ much that you don't even care about his safety or comfort, do you?"

"Wha-" Kurt started, stunned, but she wouldn't let him speak.

"You don't care that he very nearly _died_ last year at the hands of bullies – no, of course not, it doesn't matter as long as you have your prom, and your boyfriend at your school where you want him. And the way you look, the way you _dress_ – it only pulls attention, doesn't it? And maybe you're fine with it, the way it puts you in danger, but when you're with Blaine, you're putting _him _in danger, too. On his own, he can easily pass as _normal_, but with you? Not a chance. So forgive me for not thinking that you are good for my son, Kurt. Because you're not. You will only get him hurt."

Blaine had never heard his mom use this tone, so cold and sneering, and god, she had it all wrong. But before he could say anything, Kurt whirled around, his face pale and eyes lowered, and with a whispered _I'm sorry_ shot right past him and back up the stairs to Blaine's room.

Blaine's first instinct was to go after him, but he paused.

"Mom? First of all, I _am _normal, we both are, and I have no intention of _passing_ and pretending I'm not who I am. And second, he doesn't know anything about it. Not that I want to transfer, nor how bad Sadie Hawkins was. I only told him I'd been attacked, and he gave up the idea of prom immediately. It was all me, mom, my own choices."

Her face fell for a moment, doubt creeping in, but then she frowned again. "So you don't even trust him enough to tell him?"

Blaine just shook his head, incredulous, and ran up to his bedroom.

He found Kurt pacing the room, his hands shaking and lower lip white where his teeth dug in. His eyes were wet when he faced Blaine, haunted.

"You nearly _died_?It was _that _bad? Why didn't you tell me?"

Blaine came up to him and took his hands.

"I'm sorry. I just... I didn't want you to pity me or... I don't know, see me differently, I guess?" He admitted honestly. "From the moment we met, you've always looked up to me, you know? And I knew that if you saw the whole picture, you'd realize there's nothing to admire, really. And... the past is past, why bother digging it up anyway?"

"Because I want to know everything about you, and that includes your past. Because apparently that past still affects you and I've had _no idea_, Blaine, do you know how that feels? And no matter what happened, I'm not going to admire or love you less because of it. You're _you_, and I love you." Kurt's face softened. "_Please_ tell me."

Blaine sighed and closed the door, then led Kurt to the armchair by the bed. "Are you sure? It's not gonna be pretty, and with the connection between us–"

"I'm sure."

Blaine breathed out and climbed onto the bed to sit cross-legged, facing Kurt. "Okay then. You should know though... I have some anxiety issues, and talking about this may stir them up." Kurt looked like he'd never really seen him before, and Blaine forced himself to push through. "I have meds that I can take if it gets bad, but before they start to work... that's a scary feeling, Kurt, so you should maybe try and shield yourself from the empathy if possible."

Kurt just nodded, looking spooked, and Blaine put his chin on his fists and started.

"I told you that we were attacked after the Sadie Hawkins dance, me and Andy. The attackers... there were three of them, and they were drunk. At first it was just words, the usual, run-off-the-mill homophobic stuff, but soon it wasn't enough for them, so they started... pushing us, at first. Then one of them decided we needed to be _taught_ – I still don't know what we were supposed to learn – but then they were... punching and kicking, more and more vicious, and... I don't really remember every blow and every minute of it, just that it felt like eternity, and it hurt _everywhere_, and the sounds, _god_, the sound of human flesh colliding with a boot, Kurt–"

His voice was unsteady now, but he was holding on. Kurt's face looked _tortured_, and they hadn't even gotten to the worst yet.

"The last look of Andy that I got, he was bloody and unmoving, and I really thought he might be dead because he no longer made any sounds, he was just lying there. I tried to say something, to beg them to let us go, but my voice didn't work – nothing worked properly anymore." Blaine took a deep breath. "And then they decided that, and I quote, _trash belongs with trash_, and–"

"They didn't." It was barely a whisper, and Kurt looked _sick_. Blaine very much wanted to comfort him, tell him that it wasn't that bad, but–

"Yeah, they did. They hauled me up and dropped me into a dumpster. They were trying to push Andy in, too, but then a car came into the parking lot, so they left him and ran."

This was the moment where he started shaking, his breathing turning shallow and erratic. The memory of that fear and helplessness was much worse than that of the pain alone. He'd take pain over those any day. Talking was getting more difficult, but he fought it, pushed through the ghosts of that night, even when words felt like sharp little shards in his throat.

He remembered how hard he'd hit the bottom of the almost empty dumpster, how his whole body had seized in pain of the graceless landing, and what it had felt like to discovered that he could barely move, or even make a sound, through the pounding in his head and back. How Andy's father screamed and then attempted to awaken his son; how Blaine was trying to call out, stand up, anything to get the man to notice he was there, too. He told Kurt about the blinding, choking terror of the realization that there was no way for him to get out of there when the car sped out of the parking lot, carrying his friend to safety. How he stayed there, trapped and alone in the dark, battered and completely, utterly helpless.

By this time Blaine's heart was pounding, too fast and stuttering, and he couldn't get enough air through his tightened throat. He knew he was just panicking, he'd been through this before; knew he had to get to his Xanax – it was so close, just in his desk drawer. But it felt impossible to get there when all he could focus on was breathing, moving the right muscles, _in_, _out_, _in_, because his body seemed to have forgotten how to do it on its own.

The bed dipped, _Kurt_, right, Kurt was here, he should – he must be freaking Kurt out, he should... do something, but–

Kurt settled against his back, hands hovering uncertainly around him, and Blaine slumped back with a harsh exhale, grabbing onto Kurt's arms, tugging at them, and Kurt got it immediately, pressing him close, snug against his chest.

"Baby? What can I do to help? Where do you keep your meds, how can I–?" Kurt sounded breathless himself, scared.

"No." Blaine breathed out. Then, when he managed to get enough air again – "Just hold me."

It felt safer like this, even with his brain still insisting he was dying; Kurt's hand sliding under his t-shirt, _skin on skin_, and Blaine was able to breathe a tiny bit easier. He focused on that, _Kurt_ and _safe_ and _breathing_ for a long, long while, until the iron bar around his chest loosened and then dissolved into nothing, leaving him exhausted and still trembling, but mostly calm. It felt like a miracle. He stirred in Kurt's arms eventually and took a deep breath.

"You don't have to tell me anything more." Kurt sounded guilty, tortured. "I'm sorry, I had no idea... I shouldn't have put you through this."

"No. I want you to know all of it, now that I started. Just, don't let go." He was eager to finish the story, get it over with.

"Of course." Kurt squeezed his hand and Blaine commenced speaking, voice only a little rough and winded.

"What followed was the scariest night of my life. I was alone, curled up in pain at the bottom of a dumpster by the empty parking lot, and I knew that no one would really look for me until Monday. My parents were away in Columbus and had no idea that I'd gone to the dance, Andy was unconscious, and my phone was lying somewhere in the dark, probably smashed after being kicked out of my hand. It was February, freezing cold, and I wasn't even dressed for the weather, seeing how we were supposed to be driven both ways. I... I really thought I was going to die there, Kurt." Blaine's throat hurt, clenched tight around the confession, and Kurt's arms around him tightened too, both hands now on the bare skin of his stomach, soothing. "I don't know how long I lay there. It was quiet and I've never felt so alone in my life. I was getting dizzy, disoriented, and eventually I was shivering so hard it was the only thing I could think of, the cold. I just... I wanted it to stop. It's pathetic, but instead of some burst of strength, determination to survive, to pull myself out of there no matter what, I just prayed for it to end."

He heard a muffled sob and half-turned in Kurt's embrace, sliding his arms around Kurt's waist and nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

"Hey, I'm still here. I didn't die, I'm right here."

"Yeah, but you _could have_ died and–" Fresh tears on Kurt's face, and Blaine slid out of his embrace and pulled him to lay on the bed together, their limbs tangling immediately. Kurt waited until he was safely pressed against Blaine before he spoke again. "So how did you get out?"

"Someone pulled me out, later that night. I don't know who it was, I was barely conscious by the time he jumped into the dumpster, and I passed out as soon as he hauled me up, the pain was just too much. But I've always thought it must have been one of those three guys who'd beaten us up. I came to when I hit the ground in the hospital parking lot, and the car sped away at once. I managed to... basically crawl, a little, until someone noticed me and took me inside." He shuddered, remembering the next few hours, and Kurt held him closer. "It still felt like hours before my parents came. I've never been at a hospital before, not as a patient, and no one wanted to tell me anything. They were just talking over me, about tests and a surgery, and then I freaked out during an MRI because I felt trapped again and they had to sedate me. And... it was the best feeling in the world, Kurt, finally getting to switch it all off. The rest I know from my parents – I went in for an emergency surgery because there was some bleeding in my brain, and between that and some hypothermia, I didn't wake up afterward like I was supposed to. I was... in a coma, I guess, for three days."

"Oh my god."

Blaine shrugged. That part had been actually easy for him, considering he'd been unconscious and unaware of the hell his parents had been enduring, not knowing if he'd wake up at all.

"There was some time at the hospital afterwards, and then weeks at home with broken ribs and a fractured wrist, followed by some physical therapy, and months of psychotherapy because I was getting panic attacks for no reason, and... I never went back to that school. Come September, I started at Dalton, but I was held back a year because of all the absences, so... now I'm here."

Kurt didn't say anything for a very long time, just held onto him as if afraid to let go. His face was still wet.

When his tears dried off, he kissed Blaine, deep and desperate and _there_, and even though they couldn't really do more than that, he kept kissing him right until the moment he had to go home, and even then he turned back from the door twice before he actually went. His eyes never lost that haunted look.

Blaine's mom was nowhere to be seen for a while, but she came out of the laundry room when Kurt was gone, looking almost contrite.

"Okay, so I may have judged him too harshly. I'm sorry, I... you can tell Kurt he's welcome here."

Well, that was a start.


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER 17**

Kurt didn't sleep well that night, his dreams plagued by entirely too vivid images from Blaine's story, enveloped in a vague sense of dread, and really, he'd rather not sleep at all. His boyfriend bloody and unconscious was not a picture he'd ever wanted to see.

The morning rose bleak and rainy, but Kurt was already up, showered and dressed down for comfort, toiling over the most elaborate recipe for fancy breakfast rolls he could find. Kneading and rolling kept him anchored in reality and safe from succumbing to the horrifying lure of the _what if_. With his hands busy, he could think and process without getting lost or overwhelmed by emotions. And he had plenty to think about.

He had endured his share of bullying throughout his school career. He wasn't one to whine about it, but he'd always thought that he had it hard – harder than most, especially when Karofsky's abuse had escalated. And he knew that Blaine shared at least some of the experience – it was one of the first things he'd told Kurt about himself, after all. But only now did Kurt realize how much he'd marginalized it.

Blaine's calm, simple confession back in November didn't sound like anything truly bad had happened. _I let bullies chase me away_, he said – which was nowhere close to _I was beaten so bad I had to have brain surgery_, or _I almost died because someone didn't like me going to a dance with a boy_. And now, kneading the dough with furious force, Kurt felt the weight of shame settle heavy in his stomach.

He should have asked instead of assuming. He should have paid more attention, cared better, noticed more. He felt dizzy just thinking how close Blaine had come to not being here now, to never being a part of Kurt's life.

But mostly, he felt like he'd failed.

They'd known each other for eight months, and during all that time Kurt had no idea that his best friend – and then boyfriend – had anxiety problems. He barely knew anything specific about his past or his family, didn't know his fears or his plans for the future besides what they'd dreamed up together. Until yesterday, Kurt hadn't even known his damn age. Blaine looked and acted more mature than most sophomores Kurt knew, but he'd always assumed it was just the way Blaine was, older than his years. He hadn't thought to ask – why would he?

He needed to get his shit together. What kind of a boyfriend was he?

Blaine just didn't talk about those things, ever – Kurt realized, washing his hands after he'd laid the rolls out on the baking sheet and left them to raise. He kept his issues and his problems close to his chest in an attempt to keep Kurt and everyone else from worrying. And that may be fine with casual friends and relative strangers in Blaine's life, but between the two of them, it couldn't be like this.

How were they supposed to be together if they didn't communicate openly? How would they survive if they ever hit a rough patch or any relationship trouble – which was bound to happen sooner or later – without _really _talking with each other? Something had to be done, they had to work it out.

* * *

_Operation: Talk To Me_ started that afternoon.

It was still raining, so they were in Kurt's room (door open, family downstairs). Kurt was going through his closet, trying on clothes and weeding out those that didn't fit anymore after his recent growth spurt, while Blaine sat cross-legged on the bed, ogling him shamelessly and offering opinions that were mostly useless but very good for Kurt's ego. It felt nice, the easy companionship with a promise of a light make-out later, before Kurt's dad inevitably looked in on them – but Kurt had _plans_.

"What happened to your friend? After Sadie Hawkins?"

The adoring smile faded on Blaine's face.

"Andy? I... don't really know." Kurt looked at him alarmed, and Blaine rushed to correct. "I mean, he's fine, I just never talked to him again. I tried calling him a month after the dance, but he'd already changed his number. He didn't answer my emails, and deleted his Facebook account. I saw him once at the mall last summer. He was with a girl, holding hands, and when he noticed me, he turned away and hid in the closest store. _Victoria's Secret_, incidentally."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Blaine shrugged. "It's okay. It's not like we were best friends, and I guess everyone has their way of dealing with stuff. It stung back then, but I'm fine."

Kurt wondered just how many things Blaine made himself to be _fine_ with.

"Okay, another thing – your mom said something about me wanting to have you at my school. What was that about? When have I ever done anything to make you come to McKinley? I mean, you pick me up sometimes, or drop by for a performance, but I'm not forcing you, am I?"

Suddenly, Blaine couldn't meet his eyes, his cheeks turning pink. "No, that's... something else entirely. I may have... _ah_... told my parents that I want to transfer. To your school."

Kurt's eyes grew wide. "You did _what_? When?"

"Um. A few weeks after you transferred back? It didn't work, obviously. And I already told my mom it wasn't your idea, I'm sorry she yelled at you."

Kurt waved his hand dismissively, still stunned. "It's okay. But... you wanted to transfer to be with me? Really?"

Blaine nodded, the tips of his ears bright red now. "Yeah."

"But what about Dalton? And the Warblers?"

Blaine shrugged and looked away. "Dalton isn't the same without you. Nothing is the same. Not even the Warblers."

Kurt narrowed his eyes. His instincts were tingling. "What aren't you telling me?"

"They've been... pretty cold towards me lately. At least some of them." Blaine admitted quietly. "There might have been a discussion about not having one main lead next year, too, about preferential treatment and some such. But it's not just that, Kurt, it's not the reason – I just... I think I'm ready to brave public school again. With you. Except my parents don't agree, so–"

"_Blaine_." It was overwhelming, the amount of love Kurt felt for this boy, so trusting and ready to uproot his whole life, leave his safe haven to be with him. He couldn't find the words, not yet, so he just flew into Blaine's arms and let his lips speak in feverish presses until the sound of a door slamming shut downstairs broke them apart. Panting and flushed, they moved away from each other, glancing guiltily at the open door and straightening their clothes.

"Um, so... any more questions?" Blaine flashed him a bashful smile, and oh, Kurt just wanted to kiss him again – kiss him forever, if only they could find some place to be really alone–

He cleared his throat.

"Why didn't you tell me we are the same age?"

It wasn't an accusation, Kurt made sure not to make it sound like one. Still, Blaine looked uncomfortable as he answered.

"You never asked."

"How could I–" Kurt could feel his voice raising – exasperation, not anger, but he tamped it down quickly anyway. "Blaine, I shouldn't _have to _ask. I don't want to have to ask, I want us to talk about things, big things and little things and difficult things, and what we feel and why. It's important. I want to know when you have trouble with your parents, or your anxiety, or anything. Please don't make me guess. I _love you_, I _care_."

"But it's embarrassing." Blaine pulled his knees up to his chest. "I don't want you to look at me like I'm weak or needy or like I have... issues. I can be strong for you."

Kurt knelt on the bed and put his hand on Blaine's leg. "You _are_ strong. You are also human. So am I. We both have our weaker moments. You've seen mine more than once, does it mean you see me as weak?"

"God no, Kurt–"

"See? I don't, either – you're my amazing, brave boyfriend, and I want to know all the sides of you. It doesn't make me think any less of you when you open up, it just makes me love you more. I have to know when you need me, and _what_ you need. Please, we have to put on enough fronts for the rest of the world, don't you think? Let's not put up walls between us, too."

Blaine was looking at him with his big puppy eyes, so earnest and soft. "Okay. I'll try, I promise. But... I'm not used to it, sharing my problems, so you may need to remind me sometimes?"

"I can do that." Kurt's hand slid under Blaine's t-shirt and over to his hipbone. "Thank you."

* * *

So for the next few weeks, they talked – really talked, about everything: their pasts and families, early crushes and childhood memories, phobias and quirks and medical facts ("You never know when we might need to know each other's blood type, or allergies." Kurt said when Blaine looked at him funny. "I hope we never will, but I'd rather be prepared."). When Blaine left for a week-long stint at Six Flags where he subbed for their regular entertainer, they talked on the phone for hours every night, staving off the separation sickness and the longing. And when they were finally back together, they still talked, not just because it felt good, but because they could hardly do the other things they so desperately wanted.

It was ridiculous how little time alone they could get. For the last few weeks of school Kurt had been fantasizing about the freedom that summer would bring – long hours together every day in empty houses while their parents worked. But the reality turned out to be quite different.

They did have a lot of time together, which was amazing, but empty houses? Not so much. There were always people anywhere they ended up. Carole worked shifts at the hospital, so she was often home during the day even when Kurt's dad wasn't. Finn was always around, too, and where there was Finn, there was usually also Rachel, or Puck, or any number of the Glee guys, and it was noisy and fun, but not exactly what the two of them hoped for. At Blaine's house they could close the door at least, but his mom didn't work and was always around, even if she wasn't quite so hostile anymore, so it only meant they could make out without straining their ears for steps on the stairs.

Going any further under these circumstances was out of the question – neither of them was comfortable with clothes coming off when there were other people in the house, and no matter how desperate they were, walking around with drying come in their pants, especially when interacting with the other's family, was a prospect that helped them cool off more than once.

But it wasn't easy. Hormones simmering in the summer heat, clothes that revealed more than they covered, kisses that ignited the want instead of sating it even a fraction – by the last week of July, Kurt was a hot mess, almost ready to forget about the risk and find a quiet spot to get some privacy in a car, if nothing else worked. Something had to change and soon, or he would surely explode.

* * *

"Blaine... please tell me you two are being safe at least."

Blaine glanced up at his mom from the passenger's seat. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel, her face set in grim determination, but at least she was talking to him. Apart from the "Get dressed, we're going to get groceries " earlier, this was the first time she had actually spoken to him since she'd walked in on him saying goodbye to Kurt last night. Pressed against the front door. With Blaine's hands high under Kurt's shirt (_he was just reaching to stroke his mark, honestly_) and his thigh kind of... slotted between Kurt's legs (_but only for a second_). And okay, there might have been that little moan he'd made into their kiss, but–

Really, she'd chosen the worst possible moment to come in from the backyard.

To her credit, she'd left immediately. But then she was cold and silent all evening, refusing to listen to Blaine when he tried – awkwardly – to explain, and Kurt was frantic on the phone later that night, convinced that he could never, ever show his face at Blaine's house again, and it was all a terrible mess.

And now this. Blaine shook his head a little, confused.

"Of course we are safe. It's not like we wander around the bad parts of town or anything. We don't go out late at night, we don't have suspicious friends or–"

"Blaine." She still wasn't looking at him, her eyes set firmly on the road, but even her profile betrayed discomfort. "That's not what I mean. Are you... do you use condoms?"

Air escaped from Blaine's lungs as if he'd been punched. _Oh_. He could feel his face burn with a furious blush when he finally found his voice.

"Well, I'm sure we will one day, but mom, we've only been together four months, it's a long way until we _need_ condoms."

Where did that question even come from? Did she really think they'd been having sex behind the closed door to Blaine's room all that time? Sure, they'd been doing things, but apart from that one hurried repeat of prom night back at Kurt's house (after which Blaine was unable to look Burt in the eye for a week), and Kurt's hand one glorious, unforgettable day two weeks ago when Blaine's mom had gone out to the store for ten minutes, they hadn't moved past make-outs, no matter how much they wanted.

And even if they had the chance, neither of them was ready to go _that_ far, not anytime soon.

His mom looked at him fully for the first time since last night. Luckily, the road in front of them was empty.

"Oh."

That was it. No more comments, and in the store she acted as if nothing had happened, asking him about dinner preferences and ice cream flavors, and even buying his favorite fancy coffee blend, and Blaine breathed out a relieved sigh. The drop in tension was palpable. Now he could go to Kurt's and assure him that he didn't have to move to Alaska to avoid meeting his mom ever again.

But the biggest surprise came the next morning, when Blaine was sitting at the kitchen table, sleepily buttering his toast. His father was already at the office, and his mom came in, clicking her high heels, light summer jacket on and her keys in hand. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Morning. Is Kurt coming over today?"

Blaine frowned. "Maybe? I don't know yet, why?" He said cautiously. They hadn't decided what they would do this afternoon when Kurt was done with his shift at the garage, both still a little apprehensive after the other day.

"Because I'm going to dinner with your father tonight after the spa, but if you boys want to eat in, there's stew in the fridge. We should be back around ten." She smiled at his bewildered face and added softly. "I guess I should trust you a little more. Just... be smart, okay?"

She left with a kiss to Blaine's forehead, leaving him with an open mouth and a feeling he must be still dreaming.

* * *

Kurt did come over that afternoon, of course. There was no way they could pass up the opportunity to be completely, perfectly alone for the whole... oh, six hours.

It felt unreal, a dream come true, and now that they were here, he was at a loss for a moment – so many possibilities, so much time, just for them, undisturbed. Blaine didn't know where to start, his hands flailing a little as he stood in the middle of his room, the door closed and the whole house empty and quiet around them.

Thankfully, he had Kurt there – Kurt, who simply took him by the hand and led him to the bed, and they fell into each other like they'd done so many times before, kissing and touching and _there_. Except this time they didn't have to stop when the kisses turned needy and fierce, didn't have to swallow their moans when Kurt rolled onto his back, pulling Blaine on top of him, their hips pressing together. He could freely explore the sensitive skin on Kurt's neck without worrying that the breathless whimpers his tongue and teeth evoked would be heard through the door.

And most importantly, they could undress each other, as slowly and as far as they wanted.

They hadn't seen each other naked yet – and once they passed the relatively familiar boundary of shirtlessness, once they touched and kissed every inch of skin they could reach, returning to their marks over and over again, there was a pause. They looked at each other, flushed and expectant, on the precipice of new territory. Blaine stroked his finger along the waistband of Kurt's jeans, raising goosebumps on his stomach.

"May I?"

Kurt nodded, his eyes wide and never leaving Blaine's. The belt, the button, the slow slide of the zipper. Kurt's hips raised to let him slide the pants down. And then there he was, naked save for the black boxer briefs hugging him so perfectly, enveloping the bulge of his erection that Blaine had felt before but never saw like this, close and clear and unmistakable. _He_ did this. He made Kurt feel this way, arch his hips upward, straining for contact when he stroked his thigh.

"God, Blaine. You too, please, _now_."

It was a bit of a surprise how self-conscious he felt pulling off his pants, considering that Kurt had seen him without them already, after the prom. But the lights had been off then and they'd been in bed most of the time, and now Kurt's eyes were huge and dark and trained on him, his tongue flicking out unconsciously to lick his lips. Blaine blushed his way through the process, sliding off the bed to step out of his pants.

He was just about to get back to his boyfriend, the acres of milky skin begging him to touch, when Kurt jumped off the bed. The press of his almost naked body made Blaine sway on his feet, and then Kurt's hands were smoothing down his back until his thumbs dipped just under the waistband of Blaine's red briefs, stealing his breath away.

"Can I... underwear, too? Or is it too much?"

Blaine drew a sharp breath. Definitely not too much, he just wanted _skin_, no layers left between them. He braced his palms on Kurt's hips and nodded.

"Can I take yours off, too?"

"Yes."

Kurt was flushed pink and breathing fast, his hands warm as they slid down to Blaine's ass, and the next moment they were both naked – completely bare against each other, kissing and moaning and there were hands _everywhere_ and so much _skin_ and thank god the bed was just there because Blaine was fairly certain he would just fold down to the floor otherwise, and he wouldn't even care as long as Kurt was there with him.

He had thought about this moment before, imagined it dozens of times – all the options that opened with the _more _that they both wanted. Handjobs. Blowjobs. Mutual masturbation. Grinding together until they came. Rimming if they got bold. He was a walking, dreaming encyclopedia of sex acts that could happen – that had happened in his fantasies so many times Kurt would probably think he was a pervert if he knew.

But now, tangled with Kurt on his bed, Blaine didn't think of any of those. All that mattered was how perfectly close they were without any clothes between them, Kurt hot and soft-over-hard, and so _so _beautiful Blaine's heart was breaking a little, and his hands wanted to learn every inch of that skin, everywhere. The warm hollow behind Kurt's knee, the planes of his back, the tickly sides of his ribs. The vulnerable crease of his thigh. His cock, thick and solid and pink, that Blaine only had a chance to glance at before Kurt rolled them and pulled him into his arms. Because Kurt wanted to touch him too, just as much, it seemed, and they both wanted to kiss all through this frenzy of skin and sensations. Never stop kissing.

Kurt coming was a surprise – a strangled moan and a bite to Blaine's lip, and the pulsing wet heat against his thigh. Blaine's hand had just slid down to Kurt's ass, his fingers skimming along the cleft, and he only had time to realize how close he was himself before his hips were bucking into Kurt's abdomen, his back arching and _whoa_, Kurt's skin was like silk, hot, firm silk with just enough friction from the soft hair running down his belly, and hey, what a brilliant idea not to do this with anyone around because Blaine had _not_ known how loud he could apparently get.

And then they were catching their breath and smiling, and touching – always touching, hands and foreheads and tangled legs, and it wasn't weird or embarrassing in the slightest like Blaine had feared the aftermath might be. It was hot in the room so they stayed on top of the sheets, unabashedly naked, and the quick cleanup with the tissues was enough for now because the shower, though tempting, was too far away in their sated, loose state. Kurt rolled them over so that he could lie with his head on Blaine's shoulder, tracing the brown letters of his own name with his fingertip until the delicious tingling made Blaine stir and fill again, and then Kurt's curious fingertips moved, exploring and enticing.

Slower, less desperate now, they fell into each other again.

* * *

"Don't you think we could tell your parents about the marks now that they are more or less okay with us?"

They were sitting at the edge of the swimming pool at the back of Blaine's house, their feet lazily treading water in a vain attempt to combat the early August heat. It was the weekend and both of Blaine's parents were around, so actually dipping into the pool was out of the question – or it was for Kurt at least. Swimming in his shirt would look weird and he had no way of going shirtless without revealing the mark under his collarbone, all too obvious in the bright sun. Blaine was being a good boyfriend and suffering along even though the name on his hip was easier to hide if he simply hiked up his swimming trunks.

He startled at the question and glanced guiltily at Kurt.

"No. I'm sorry, I just don't want to stir the pot. I'm afraid if I give them this to accept on top of everything else right now, it will be too much. They both hate all kinds of mysteries, and this is still new and weird and something they've never even heard of. I don't think they would just take it at face value like your parents did."

Kurt nodded, looking intently at the water. "What if you snuck them an article or two to read? It's not some mumbo jumbo after all, _scientists_ are working on it, so there should be some kind of development soon."

Blaine bit his lip, torn between giving Kurt anything he wanted and holding onto this new and wonderful peace treaty between him and his parents.

"It won't help. Not unless everyone has those, unless it's a normal thing. Otherwise I'll be just a freak in yet another way, especially to my father. It doesn't matter that I didn't choose this, just like I didn't choose my sexuality. I stick out, and not in a way to be proud of. That's what counts. They just want me to be _normal_. I'm afraid they might want me to remove it or something."

Kurt gasped. "They wouldn't!"

"I don't know." Blaine shrugged. "I bet they'd make me remove the gay if it was possible."

Kurt took his hand and squeezed it in silence, and Blaine managed a small smile. Yes, things were much better now, especially with his mom. But there'd been enough harsh words in his past, enough cutting comments that still hurt to this day, to know that he was stepping on thin ice. No, the marks would have to stay a secret. His parents didn't need to know. They didn't even know that such a thing existed, and that was just fine with Blaine.

Except it was about to change very soon.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **_Here it is, and I'm sorry for the wait. Real life interferes – I'm trying to start earning money with my words now, so progress on my fics is slower than I'd like it to be lately. Hopefully it's just a matter of time before I settle into the new schedule, because I still have so much fun planned for this story and I can't wait to share it with you :) _

_Thank you SO much for all the love and comments, they always brighten my day, and I'm sorry that I suck at replying recently – I promise I'll try to do better once I whip the chaos of my non-fandom life into some semblance of order. Hugs and kittens (bunnies? puppies? take your pick!) for all of you!_

* * *

**CHAPTER 18 **

The story started small, in the first week of August – just a mention about the "strange phenomenon" in the morning news on a slow day. By the evening it had been quoted in the _Health _sections of all the major news sites. "_Random names appearing on people's bodies_", "_tiny percentage of the population_", "_no reason to worry_", "_the scientists are working on understanding the anomaly_". And the word that seemed to catch everyone's attention, just one of the potential explanations thrown in dismissively among scientific jargon: "_soulmates_".

The sheer volume of responses and comments was staggering and within days, the story grew and ballooned, until it was everywhere – huge articles in newspapers and premium spots on TV news, floods of discussions all over the internet. Soon it was revealed that the percentage of people with marks wasn't that small, after all – according to different sources, it was already between 5 and 10% of Americans, and probably just as much all over the world. And the numbers were still growing, with new cases reported every day.

Suddenly, there were "experts" everywhere – doctors and philosophers, geneticists and priests and self-proclaimed mystics, stating their opinions and beliefs with unshakeable conviction. The marks were called a plague or a miracle, people with names on their bodies were either _diseased_ or _chosen_, _blessed_ or _cursed_, depending on who you asked. Stories of happily "matched" couples were countered by tales of anguish by people who suffered ridicule and embarrassment because their marks appeared in highly visible spots.

Five days after the first reports, a well-known plastic surgeon announced he'd recently developed the most effective method of removing the "obnoxious markings", and offered discounts for the first ten patients interested in the procedure. In reply, a celebrity wedding planner called the marks "the most beautiful proof of destiny existing" and promised her services for free to the first "soulmate couple" who wanted to tie the knot. The internet was abuzz, people divided between those squealing with excitement at the romanticism of the soulmates idea, those predicting horrible things to come out of this new epidemic, and the usual angry crowd demanding an explanation, a cure, money, or the resignation of the president. Everywhere you went for days, people hardly talked about any other news.

Blaine was watching all this in silent dread.

He and Kurt had agreed not to reveal their marks to anyone who hadn't known by then, which meant only being _out_ to Tina and Mike, and Kurt's dad and Carole. Even Finn didn't know yet. They were still waiting for Blaine's parents' reaction to all the hype, hoping it would be positive, or at least open-minded enough to let them stop hiding their connection. But days went by and Mr. and Mrs. Anderson seemed completely uninterested in the issue that was on everyone's tongues.

Blaine refused to start the topic himself, unwilling to draw attention. Discussing news and current events wasn't really something they did at his home. But he made a habit of watching TV with his parents on those evenings when he wasn't out with Kurt, hoping for... anything, really. A comment, a discussion, even just some indication of their opinions.

It took a whole week since that first news for his parents to say anything at all.

Another mark-related story was just airing – several couples who were "matched" by the names on their skin speaking about how perfect it felt when they'd found each other – when Blaine's father grabbed the remote with a frustrated huff.

"For god's sake, isn't it time to stop talking about some damn skin disease and go back to reporting important news? Who cares what your freckles say, people! _Soulmates_, indeed." He changed the channel with a vicious stab of his thumb.

Blaine's heart dropped. Not that he was surprised by his father's attitude – it was exactly what he'd thought it would be – but he would lie if he said he hadn't _hoped_, just a little...

"But it sounds real, don't you think?" He couldn't stop himself. "I mean, all those marks must have some function, right? And people do find each other, and they _fit_ together, it makes sense."

"Oh Blaine, of course you'd think that, you're so _young_." His mom cooed soothingly, reaching over to stroke his hand. "But there's no such thing as soulmates. There isn't just one perfect person destined to be with you. A good relationship is more than a meeting of predestined lovers that leads to a happily ever after, real life doesn't work like that."

"I know." He mumbled through a clenching throat. No ally there either, then. It hurt more than it should. "It's just... a nice concept, I guess."

"It's a beautiful one, yes. But believing it only leads to heartbreak." There was something off in his mom's voice, a hint of distress on her face as she glanced down at her hand, still covering Blaine's. A blink and it was gone, covered by a smile. "Aren't you going to bed?"

"Yeah, I should." It wasn't his bedtime yet, not even close, but he had a feeling tonight's phone call with Kurt would be a long one. He got up from the couch and kissed his mom's cheek. "Goodnight."

* * *

Keeping the secret was even harder now that all of their friends were talking about it. Suddenly marks on skin were like a cool new gadget. Everyone wondered about them – what they felt like, what they really meant – and Tina and Mike, who had revealed theirs for what they really were as soon as the news spread around, found themselves answering a thousand questions from their fascinated friends time and again. And it wasn't that Blaine envied them the exposure, especially the way relative strangers would stop them to inquire about the marks sometimes – frankly, that part was creepy. But hiding, pretending not to know when their friends discussed how it must feel to have a soulmate, or argued whether or not such a concept was even real, somehow felt like betrayal to him, like tainting the most beautiful thing in his life with secrecy. He would never deny what Kurt meant to him, but this felt exactly like what he was doing.

Kurt was infinitely patient and understanding, and did everything a perfect boyfriend would do – and that made it even harder. Harder to watch when Kurt's jaw clenched tight every time someone spoke about Tina and Mike being the one chosen couple among them, dismissing the rest as silly high school romances; harder to stand there, holding Kurt's hand, and pretend it wasn't his soulmate right there. And when Finn came home one afternoon in the middle of August brokenhearted because Rachel discovered a name on her breast that wasn't his, it was almost physically painful to listen to Kurt speak about how having this kind of connection must be so very special and worth waiting for, and how maybe Finn would know that feeling one day, too – maybe they all would. The look on Kurt's face almost broke Blaine's resolve and made him come out with the marks to the whole world right there and then.

But it would only make Finn feel worse, so he pushed it aside in favor of being a good friend – and by the time he returned home that night, the courage had somehow melted away again, leaving just the selfish fear of change.

Because what Blaine had now was the closest to acceptance he'd felt from his parents since the day he came out. It seemed like they were finally okay with his sexuality, or at least as close as they would ever get. Jeopardizing that when he'd yearned for it for so long was... unthinkably hard. He would do that for Kurt, of course he would – he would do anything, if Kurt asked.

But Kurt hadn't asked. Not yet, at least.

So Blaine was stuck between enjoying the peace at home and feeling guilty towards Kurt, which resulted in trying to make it up to Kurt any way he could, any time he was allowed. Which was a lot, considering that Blaine's mom threw herself back into her social life now that she'd decided her self-imposed chaperone duty was no longer needed. She was out of the house most of the time Kurt and Blaine were there, which led to many delicious hours spent slowly discovering each other, hidden away in Blaine's bedroom.

If Blaine could draw, he'd be able to sketch every inch of Kurt's gorgeous body from memory by now, every dip and curve, every shadow, every freckle.

He really regretted that he couldn't draw.

He could take pictures; in fact, he had dozens of visions in his head of exactly how he would love to capture Kurt – beautiful, artistic nudes both in color and sepia tones – but it was too early for that, as Kurt's furious blush when he mentioned it told him.

Those last few weeks, they'd learned a lot – about pleasure, and each other, and how their marks figured in all that. They'd learned to hold back when one of them came instead of immediately following the shared thrill of pleasure, and discovered that while increased sensitivity to each other's reactions was definitely real, the phantom orgasms didn't happen when they were together. Kurt's theory was that it was a mind thing, since it only worked when they were thinking of the other – and not much thinking happened when they were actually close, able to see and touch for real. Blaine didn't really care how it worked – having Kurt in his arms was better than any phantom sensations ever.

There were so many things Blaine had discovered he loved during those long hours of privacy they had now. Kurt's hands, of course, the way his touch was so different from Blaine's own, and yet so perfect in its shy, exploratory gentleness. The sounds Kurt made just before he came, high and helpless, so desperate. The way Kurt kept pushing the levels of his own sexiness up into the stratosphere, with barely a blink and a teasing smile. Blaine thought his brain would explode with it sometimes – like that day when Kurt straddled his hips, all flushed and naked, gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat from the hot humidity of the room, his hand working over his own cock with slow deliberation until he came all over Blaine's mark, that spot so sensitive and private, sizzling with pleasure.

But being naked together wasn't the only thing they did with their time alone – far from it. They spent hours in the backyard, swimming and reading and talking, and lounging in the hammock. It turned out Kurt was actually okay with the sun as long as his sunscreen was always within easy reach. When it got too hot, they watched movies in the delightful coolness of the den, and on a few cold days they baked cookies together, making an awful mess in the kitchen because seeing Kurt all domestic caused Blaine to get handsy every single time, and then there was flour everywhere and chocolate smeared on their skin, and thank god the oven had a timer or they would probably cause a fire alarm on more than one occasion. Not to mention, burnt cookies.

Kurt wouldn't forgive him burnt cookies.

All through August it felt like they had all the time in the world, the long lazy summer days filled with love and closeness and friends, no hurry at all. And then it was suddenly the last week of their vacation and like a switch flipped, everything felt urgent as the school year and the separation it would bring drew nearer with every passing hour.

* * *

_Seven days left_.

They had lunch with Rachel, newly single and annoying in all of her freshly-marked self-importance. They were both fidgeting in their seats by the time she was done with her half-hour monologue about the importance of not wasting her time with the wrong person, now that she knew without a doubt her soulmate was waiting for her out there in New York. When she started lecturing them on the signs to look for, expressing her hope they would one day get to experience the indescribable feeling of knowing their true love's name, Kurt looked like he was about to snap, his jaw clenched and his fingers playing with the neck of his t-shirt. Blaine really wouldn't blame him. Maybe it would make her stop talking at least.

_Six days_.

They spent the whole afternoon with Kurt's family. A barbecue in the backyard turned into a jam session when Puck and Sam arrived with their guitars, and it was warm and fun and peaceful and no one even blinked at Kurt and Blaine cuddling together on the porch swing, so used to the view after all those months. It felt so good that they didn't even try to sneak in and up to Kurt's room for some privacy in the evening, just shared a few chaste kisses and smiled softly into their _I love yous_ before Blaine drove home. It was one of those days Blaine knew would stay in his memory forever as a reminder of times when everything was right in the world, if only for a moment.

_Five days_.

Kurt was on top of him, kissing-licking his way down – all the way down over the skin thrumming with desire, slow and tender and not stopping, never stopping until–

Kitten licks to the head of Blaine's cock, hot and wet and shocking, and Blaine arched up, babbling, begging, all control gone in an instant. More shy little licks, Kurt tasting the beads of precome at the tip of Blaine's cock, swirling his tongue around with a thoughtful, captivated expression. Then kisses – down the length of Blaine's cock, and lower, over his balls. He pushed Blaine's legs apart to better settle between them – and that was it. Blaine lost it, the feeling of being so open all of a sudden, so exposed for Kurt enough to push him over the edge.

Afterwards, Kurt was suddenly shy and flushed pink, with a wet spot spreading on the front of his blue boxer-briefs that he hadn't even had time to take off before they'd fallen into each other. And then there was a sound of the garage door opening and they were scrambling for their clothes, so there was no chance for the second round, no matter how much Blaine wanted to have his turn, too. But the delicious possessive thrill that ran through him when Kurt went out of the bathroom wearing Blaine's borrowed boxers was something he definitely needed to file away to think about later because, _ohmygod_.

_Four days_.

They talked – about yesterday, about what they wanted, what they were ready for, and what they weren't, yet. And then they implemented the new knowledge and _oh wow_, Blaine really _really_ liked to suck cock.

They went outside afterwards to make use of the last bits of freedom in the sun, resisting the temptation to just stay in Blaine's bedroom forever, taking turns to learn everything there was to know about blowjobs. They were giddy and excited, and swimming led to a tickle fight in the pool, which ended with dropping onto the blanket in a giggling wet mess and kissing until they dozed off under the huge garden umbrella, warm and tired and happy.

They slept longer than they should, only waking up when the evening chill started to creep in on their almost-naked bodies, but fortunately there was no one home still, so all was good.

_Three. _

They had a plan – dinner and movies in Lima, but Blaine's mom shocked him in the morning with a request to call Kurt and invite him to eat dinner with them. _Them_. As in, both of Blaine's parents. He had to ask her to repeat because he was certain he misheard.

He didn't.

So he called, and Kurt accepted, and then he spent half a day calling Blaine every half hour obsessing about his outfit for the evening. They went to the movies anyway, but then drove to Blaine's home, and the dinner was... wonderful, actually. The conversation was smooth and lively, his parents behaved as if they'd never had anything against Kurt in the first place, and before Kurt went home, Blaine's mom _hugged him goodbye_. And Blaine had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

_Two_.

When Kurt had said last week that he wanted to drive to Columbus for the day, Blaine thought it would be just a shopping opportunity before school began, a little change of scenery. He didn't expect them to stop by the Ohio State campus so that Kurt could take a look around.

"How can I go to New York next year, and leave you here?" was all he said to Blaine's shocked inquiry.

There was silence in the car on their way back, but it was loud and chaotic in Blaine's head. It shouldn't be like this. It wasn't right for Kurt to give up his dream just so that they could stay close next year.

But when he actually thought of the distance, he wasn't sure he could bear the alternative.

_One._

Blaine came home late that evening after the end-of-summer party at Brittany's. The day had been fun, but when the time came to say goodnight to Kurt, the mood shifted and now Blaine was just immensely sad. Grateful for the summer they'd had, but painfully aware how hard it was going to be now, only seeing each other every day after school again. If they even had time to meet every day. It was Kurt's senior year, after all.

Blaine's mom knocked on his bedroom door just as he'd finished preparing his bag for the morning. She was in her nightgown already, her hair loose and make-up washed off. Secretly, this was Blaine's favorite look on her, so natural and different from the one she wore for the world to see. Even her smile was different like this – warmer, more private.

She hovered in the doorway, the way she did when she came to say goodnight sometimes. "Hey, how was the party?"

Blaine shrugged and took out his Dalton uniform, freshly cleaned and pressed, to hang it on his closet door, ready for the morning.

"It was good. You know – we had a bonfire and sang a lot. There were some silly games Brittany came up with... it was fun."

His mom nodded and came in, closing the door before she sat down at the edge of his bed. It didn't look like she had only come to say goodnight after all.

"So... they really are your friends, too? Not just Kurt's?"

"They are. Well, some of them more than others, but we've spent so much time together by now that it really feels like I'm an adopted member of New Directions. Um, that's their Glee club."

His mom looked as if she wasn't really listening, just looking at him uncertainly. It was confusing. He was just about to ask her what was wrong when–

"Do you still want to transfer?" It was quiet but clear, and it knocked Blaine completely off-balance, his mom's dark eyes earnest and inquisitive on him.

"Mom?"

"I talked to your father today and we decided... if you want to. If you really want to, for you, not just for Kurt."

In a heartbeat, he was kneeling by her feet, grabbing her hands. "You're really letting me transfer? Now?"

She laughed that quiet, bright laugh of hers. "Well, not _now_. But we'll go to Dalton in the morning, you and me, to take care of the paperwork. You should be able to start at McKinley in a few days. If you're sure."

"I'm sure. I really, really am, mom."

He was _so _sure. The thought of going back to Dalton had been a heavy cloud over his head lately, and not just because of the dreaded separation from Kurt. Dalton had felt like home once, like a safe haven. But the last few months there had felt more and more like a cage that Blaine had fled as soon as he could. Nothing kept him there anymore. Not even the Warblers, now that the council members had graduated and the new voices had grown, demanding changes to the old traditions, to the classy image that Blaine loved.

Yes, he was ready to say goodbye to Dalton. And being close to Kurt this year was what he wanted most in the world, too. But... he shook his head minutely.

"Mom? Why now? What happened? I mean... you invited Kurt to dinner, you _hugged _him, and now _this_. It feels like something changed, and I'm over the moon about it, don't get me wrong, I just don't know... _why_?"

He couldn't decipher the look on her face – it was soft and tender, but also so very sad that it almost scared him. But before he had time to worry, she reached out and raised the hem of his shirt, uncovering his left side.

"Because of this."

His mark. Out in the open, clear and obvious above the low-slung waist of his pajama pants, unmistakable to anyone who'd had any contact with mass media lately. Blaine reached to stroke Kurt's name on instinct.

His mom _knew_. And she wasn't... angry, or disappointed?

"How did you–?"

"I came by the house a few days ago to pick up a book I'd forgotten, and found you two asleep by the pool. It was kind of hard not to notice." Blaine shook his head, incredulous, but she just smiled. "How long have you had them?"

"Since Christmas. Both of us." He whispered. Her eyebrows shot up.

"Eight months?"

"Yeah. But... mom, you said you don't _believe_ in soulmates."

She smiled sadly and let his t-shirt fall back down. "I did believe in them once. And then I stopped. Because even if it were real, having a soulmate and being with them doesn't immediately mean a happy ending. It's not a surefire happiness recipe, and it doesn't mean you can't have a great life with someone else. I just... I didn't want you to get too hung up on the idea, with all the hype around. But now that I know about you and Kurt, it's more than an abstract. I've seen the way he looks at you, how happy he makes you, and now those marks. That's all I want for you, Blaine. To be happy."

"I _am _happy with him, mom. I never knew being with someone could feel so perfect."

She smiled and threaded her fingers through his hair, something she hadn't done in years.

"I'm glad to hear that."

They sat in silence for a moment, until Blaine couldn't resist anymore. "Mom? Who was it? The one that made you believe in soulmates once?"

She hesitated, reaching to play with the ring on her right hand, a silver band shaped into a wide wreath of ivy leaves that covered her ring finger almost to the knuckle. Now that Blaine thought of it, he didn't think he'd ever seen this ring on her until recently.

His mom saw him looking and her mouth quirked in a wry smile. "It doesn't matter. That was before I met your father and chose a future with him. And... I have my family. I chose this family and I will always choose it. But if that's what soulmates mean, if Kurt makes you feel _that_ way, then who am I to stand in the way of your happiness? Just... treasure what you have, Blaine. It's a precious thing. And a fragile one."

His eyes stung when she stroked his cheek and he pressed his face into her warm hand.

"I do, mom. I will."


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19**

Barely three days in, Kurt's senior year was already shaping up to be terrible, making the bubbly, relaxed feeling summer left him with a distant memory.

It wasn't just the fact that he and Blaine were in different schools, either. It was... everything, really. _Everything_ was wrong.

Once again, they were a few members short in the Glee club, so the usual hunt for anyone with semi-functioning vocal chords began. It ended in a massive food fight when Rachel had a _brilliant_ idea to do a number in the school cafeteria in order to lure any interested students in with a promise of fun.

Kurt's clothes would never recover. And the only new member they got out of the ordeal, Sugar Motta, was completely devoid of any musical talent and very possibly batshit crazy. Still, to everyone's surprise, Mr. Schue let her in, which meant he was either _that_ desperate, or so affected by his private drama that he didn't care about the Glee club at all.

It only took them a day to find out the reason for their director's unusually sharp, snappy attitude. The beautiful smooth script adorning the front of Ms. Pillsbury's neck like a necklace was impossible to miss. Large brown letters spelled _Carl Howell_, and if anyone had any doubt their school counselor had found her soulmate over the summer, it was easily dispelled during lunch hour, when the glass walls of her office revealed her once-husband feeding her fruit with a smitten look on his face. Clearly the magic of the marks had helped to resolve any differences they might have had in the past, as evidenced by Ms. Pillsbury's radiant smiles. Rumor had it they were already planning another, proper wedding over Christmas.

She wasn't the only one who'd gotten her mark during the summer. Apart from Rachel, who kept her nose up and the name she found secret (which didn't stop her from babbling about her experience to anyone who didn't run fast enough), there were several other people at McKinley who sported fresh marks. Jacob Ben Israel spent the first two days of school running around, sticking his microphone in people's faces and asking them what they thought of the soulmates issue and if they had something new to share. Which, of course, only deepened Kurt's foul mood because as much as he'd love to show off Blaine's name, they were still keeping their marks a secret. At least he kept his cool and didn't go all berserk when he heard the word _soulmates_, like Finn did.

It was safe to say Finn wasn't a fan of the concept.

The other big topic in those first days of school was college plans, which really didn't make Kurt feel any better. He'd made his decision. He was _fine _with his decision. Really, he was. But the thought of explaining it to his friends just gave him a headache, so he didn't say anything, claiming he still wasn't sure. It was enough that Rachel made him feel like shit with her impassioned speech about how he would be a coward, not to mention ruin her perfect New York plans, if he changed his mind _now_. It took a lot of self-control not to yell at her in all of her self-important indignity and remind her that not everything was about her.

The funny thing was, if Kurt only said he was waiting a year so that he could go to New York with his soulmate, everyone would understand and applaud, like they did for Tina and Mike. Changing your plans for your soulmate was perceived as romantic and right. Changing them for a boyfriend or a girlfriend? Stupid, immature and irresponsible.

Kurt didn't even want to think about what his father would say about it. But this conversation could wait a little longer. He really wasn't looking forward to it.

The icing on the cake of this week was Blaine's behavior. Kurt had known they would have much less time for each other once classes started. But it was the very beginning of the year, there wasn't much homework yet and the after-school activities were only just starting, and already Blaine seemed to be busier than ever. He hadn't been able to meet Kurt at all the first day of school, claiming he was running errands with his mom, and then yesterday he'd only managed to squeeze a quick coffee at the Lima Bean into his schedule. Plus, he'd acted weird, all jittery and excited for no apparent reason. If Kurt didn't know better, he'd think Blaine was hiding something from him.

Wait, did he actually know better? Blaine talked to him about everything, right? At least Kurt had thought he did.

Oh great. Like he needed _that_ thought on top of everything.

More frustrated than ever, he finished fixing his hair and was taking out the book he needed for his next class when a very familiar voice came from a few feet away.

"Hey you."

Kurt _stared_.

* * *

Late that night, already in bed with the lights switched off, Kurt still had trouble believing that any of it had actually happened. Blaine finding him at school in the middle of the day, looking all casual and gorgeous, to tell him that he'd just transferred. Blaine's performance/audition in McKinley's courtyard. Their conversation in Kurt's room after school, when he'd learned all about Mrs. Anderson's change of heart.

Not only could they come out with their marks now; they would see each other at school every day, sing and dance together at Glee, have time – so much time, for normal, everyday boyfriend things, without struggling to meet every afternoon despite distance and school work.

Kurt couldn't be happier – and yet, he found himself unable to fall asleep. It all felt too good to be true, and so unexpected – what if he woke up in the morning only to realize it was all a dream? Only hesitating for a moment because of the late hour, he picked up his phone from the bedside table. Blaine answered on the first ring, sounding barely awake, and Kurt let out the words in a single breath.

"Please promise me you will really be there in the morning."

Blaine chuckled, the sound warm like a soft blanket. "I promise. I'll be at your locker half an hour before classes, coffee in hand."

Kurt breathed out, more loose and relaxed already. "Actually, that only makes you sound _more_ like a dream."

"Get some sleep, Kurt. It's not a dream, I'll be there. I love you."

"I love you too, dream boy."

* * *

They hadn't planned how they would come out, not yet. Now that Kurt knew they could reveal their marks whenever they chose, it lost the desperate urgency he had felt before. It was their decision, theirs to plan and enjoy, and Blaine had already said that he would be glad to do it any way Kurt wished – he was just happy not to hide how lucky they were anymore.

So Kurt decided to take his time, no matter how excited he felt at the prospect. A few days more wouldn't change anything, and he wanted the moment to be just right – nothing too flashy or dramatic, but noticeable enough. Merely telling someone and waiting for the rumor mill to pick it up wouldn't do. Kurt wanted strategy.

The inspiration came on Monday, after Mr. Schue ordered half of the Glee club into mandatory booty camp to improve their dancing skills. As offended as Kurt felt by the implication that his dance moves weren't good enough, he couldn't help but bounce a little. He'd have to plan out the details once he got home, but he had an idea and it was _perfect_.

* * *

Blaine survived the few days it took for his transfer to be official, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Not revealing his surprise to Kurt before the time came was possibly one of the most difficult acting exercises he'd ever done, and there were a few times when he was sure he would burst with it. But the look of stunned disbelief on Kurt's face was worth every minute of holding back, and the surprise performance felt like an amazing beginning to the new chapter in Blaine's high school education. And now they were at school together again, and Blaine still couldn't believe it. He kept glancing at Kurt in the choir room, searching him out in the hallways during every break, full to the brim with warm, happy feelings, so much so that he forgot to be anxious at all.

Well... okay, there were a few tiny dark clouds in the perfect sky of his post-transfer life. Rachel insinuating that Blaine was a Warblers spy. Finn getting sulky and snappy after Blaine's – perhaps a tad too excited – welcome speech. Some of the others eyeing him with confused distrust. Overall, he was not met with as much enthusiasm as he'd imagined. It turned out getting along great with a group of people in casual circumstances didn't automatically mean being greeted with open arms when you decided to join them permanently.

But that was fine. Blaine would just have to prove himself as a valuable addition to New Directions. Which shouldn't be a problem, he was a master of proving himself and fitting expectations. It was only a matter of time until everything was smooth and friendly again.

And all that paled in the light of having his soulmate by his side, anyway. Especially now that they were about to officially reveal their marks. Blaine didn't know all the details – Kurt only told him it would be tomorrow – but he could barely contain his excitement and curiosity. Knowing Kurt, it would be big.

* * *

Blaine spent the whole day on pins and needles, waiting for _that moment_. Kurt had only smiled mysteriously and told him to be patient when he had asked, so Blaine's heart sped up every time Kurt went over to talk to somebody during the day. He almost grabbed Kurt's hand when he saw Jacob coming towards them with his cameraman, but they passed without a word, trailing after one of the Cheerios.

Later, in Glee, when Kurt put his hand up, Blaine thought he would jump out of his skin. This had to be it, it made perfect sense to announce it here first, among friends. Except... Kurt only told everyone that he'd decided he would be running for senior class president. Which was the first time Blaine heard about it, and he would definitely have to ask because hey, shouldn't he be the first to know? But that was not the point.

The point was, the day was almost over and still no one knew.

He caught up with Kurt as they were leaving the choir room after practice.

"Kurt–"

"Shh, trust me."

"But–"

"I promise, soon." Kurt smiled mischievously and quickly squeezed Blaine's hand in the empty corridor.

They were walking towards the auditorium for the first booty camp and Blaine sulked a little as he trailed after his boyfriend. He knew it was his fault they'd even waited so long, but now that they didn't have to hide anymore, he couldn't wait to look everyone in the eye and proudly say: _this is my soulmate_.

With only the relative privacy of the backstage serving as changing rooms, everyone scattered between corners and curtained-off nooks to change into exercise clothes. Blaine found his own empty spot and quickly pulled on his sweatpants and t-shirt before going to find Kurt.

He was on the stage already, talking with Mike, and Blaine joined them to wait for everyone else. There was only a handful of people besides them – Finn, Puck, Mercedes, Sugar and Quinn – but the girls seemed to need forever to get ready, so Blaine took the opportunity to ogle Kurt a little. It wasn't that often that he got to see his boyfriend so casual, after all. Black, form-fitting yoga pants paired with a zipped-up black-and-white hoodie made Kurt look younger somehow, less guarded, and at the same time accentuated certain areas of his body in a way that made Blaine's mouth water and his mind frantically calculate how much time alone they could get afterwards before Kurt's dad came from the garage.

Well, at this rate they wouldn't leave here until dinnertime.

Finally, everyone was accounted for and ready (if not particularly happy to be here), and Mr. Schue clapped his hands to get their attention.

"Okay, so now that you've all decided to grace us with your presence at last, let's start. And just so you know, starting tomorrow, every five minutes of delay adds half an hour to the class. Warm up."

Blaine rolled his eyes as soon as the teacher turned his back. Frankly, he'd never had much heart or respect for Mr. Schue – just knowing that the man had been at least partially aware of Kurt's bullying problem last year and did nothing to effectively stop it was enough for Blaine to dislike him because, damn it, he was an _adult_ and a _teacher_. Mr. Schue's attitude since Blaine had joined the New Directions did nothing to warm him towards the man, and neither did his first Spanish lesson on Friday. Blaine wasn't by any means a master of the language, but after a year at Dalton he was proficient enough to wince every other time Mr. Schue said something in class or read an excerpt from their textbook.

Beside him, movement caught Blaine's attention – Kurt was quickly unzipping his hoodie before skipping to the nearest chair to put it away. It was warm in the auditorium.

But then Kurt turned around and returned to his place, light on his feet and focused on Mike up front, already explaining the warm-up sequence, and Blaine – gasped.

He wasn't the only one to notice. Mercedes' shrill squeal got everyone's attention instantly.

"_Kurt Hummel_! Is that what I think it is?"

Kurt looked down where her finger was pointing, the mark perfectly displayed thanks to the wide neck of his striped tank top, and he shrugged, grinning just a little.

"Oh. Yeah, of course it is."

The next few minutes were a little bit of a pandemonium – most everyone gathered around Kurt to have a look, then turning to Blaine, asking, exclaiming, congratulating. He had to lift his t-shirt to show his own mark, which he did gladly, excited, giddy, a little drunk on the moment finally being here and on Kurt's proud smile. In the happy chaos, it took him a while to notice Finn stalking away with a stormy expression, just before Mr. Schue's sharp voice cut through the noise.

"Do I need to remind you all that the later we start, the longer you're going to be here? Back to positions, everyone. And Kurt, put on something more covering."

Kurt looked at Mr. Schue defiantly. "Why? Do I show too much _cleavage_?"

"You're distracting the others." The teacher's jaw was clenched, the vein in his neck pulsing.

Kurt arched his eyebrow. "Really. I can almost see Sugar's nipples from here, but _I'm_ distracting." Sugar grinned and jiggled her breasts at them. Puck whistled. Mr. Schue looked like he wanted to yell at them, but eventually turned his back and growled.

"On three."

The practice was strenuous to the point of cruelty. By the end of it every single one of them was streaming with sweat, their legs unstable and muscles screaming. Mercedes had cried and refused to go on halfway through it. Finn had kicked a note-stand and stormed out not much later, after failing to recreate a complicated dance routine yet again. Mr. Schue called them lazy more than once.

Blaine had another problem though – one that earned him a more permanent place in the booty camp though he'd initially came as a volunteer. His blunders and utter distractedness ruined every favorable impression Mr. Schue and Mike had had about his skills as a dancer, but Blaine really couldn't help it. He couldn't control his reactions no matter how he tried. Because it turned out that seeing Kurt's mark displayed like that in public was a _huge_ thing for Blaine.

Not just a turn-on, either. Every time he saw it, so clear against Kurt's pale skin, so out there, _his_, his name, a jolt of something raw and primal ran through Blaine's body, turning his thoughts into a jumble of incoherent, animalistic growls. All through the practice he'd had to fight with the need to get closer to Kurt, into his personal space, to touch him, to _mark _him and show everyone that this gorgeous, amazing boy was _Blaine's_.

As soon as they were backstage, he couldn't hold back any longer. Grabbing Kurt's hand, he pulled him into a secluded nook behind a curtain and into a deep, desperate kiss before Kurt could say a word. He lingered on Kurt's lips only for a moment, though, before kissing and nipping down the salty slope of his neck and over, finally, to the mark. Blaine felt a little wild with it, the skin seemed electric under his lips and it was still not enough, he needed more, needed everyone to _see–_

"Blaine." It was a half-moan from Kurt's mouth and Blaine grazed the hard ridge of his collarbone, sucked at the smooth skin. "_Blaine_!"

Kurt gently pushed him away and Blaine swayed a little, startled out of his trance-like state. Before his eyes, the skin over and around his name was reddened from his ministrations. Kurt was staring at him, clearly surprised.

"What was this?"

"I... I don't know, I just – you're _mine_."

"Of course I am, but why the sudden need to devour me, especially when I'm all sweaty and gross?"

Blaine shrugged. He could feel his cheek start to burn with more than exertion. "I don't know, I just... seeing your mark in public apparently makes me go crazy possessive."

Kurt arched his eyebrow. "Oh. _Interesting_." He looked at Blaine for a moment, a look of calculation on his face. "Hm, how about we go to my house and take a quick shower, together if there's no one there yet, and then you can commence marking me however you want as long as it's not in visible places? I still have plans for tomorrow that involve showing off your name."

Blaine just growled and rushed to get his bag, ready to go.

* * *

Kurt checked his reflection in the mirror before getting out of his car the next morning. Everything seemed to be in perfect order – his hair was flawless, the single tiny hickey left accidentally on his neck last night well covered up, and the zippers on the shoulders of his sweater opened just enough to give everyone a peek of the black undershirt – and the perfect view of his mark. Satisfied, Kurt grabbed his bag and strutted towards the school, where Blaine was undoubtedly waiting by his locker already.

Oh, it was going to be an great day. Not even Finn's silent sulkiness was going to spoil it.

Rachel intercepted him as soon as he walked through the door, pulling him to the side despite his protests and immediately pushing into his personal space, reaching out to touch his collarbone.

"So it's true then."

He batted her hand away with a disbelieving frown. There was only one person allowed to touch.

She didn't look discouraged, just hurt. "I couldn't believe it when Mercedes called me last night, I thought I'd be the first to know if it happened, but apparently you've had it for _months_ and you never said a word? How could you, Kurt? We had _plans_, and this changes _everything_, will you even go to New York now? Oh god, I need a back-up plan, I have to find a new roommate, you should have told me months ago, Kurt!"

Kurt ground his teeth so hard it hurt in an effort not to lash out.

"Believe it or not, Rachel, but not everything is about you. There was a reason no one knew until now."

"Mike knew!" She snapped.

"Yes, from Tina, who knew because she guessed. And my parents. And that was it. And I don't have to apologize to you for how I lead my life." He turned to walk away, his buoyant mood somewhat ruined.

"But I'm your best friend!" She called out behind him. He didn't stop. He wasn't even sure if it was still true.

* * *

Just as Kurt thought, the news had already spread through the school and there were whispers and curious glances around him as he walked to his locker. Blaine's smile was dazzling, clearly visible from afar, but as Kurt came closer, it changed into something less innocent and more heated. Blaine's eyes were dark and intent by the time Kurt reached him, and Blaine's hand rose immediately to smooth a welcome over Kurt's exposed mark.

"Please tell me you know of a private place where we can disappear right now."

Kurt laughed softly. "Again? I thought it was just a reaction to the first time I showed off the mark."

Blaine shook his head and clutched the strap of his bag with both hands in a clear attempt to keep them away from Kurt. "I don't think so. It's like... I have a physical reaction to seeing it uncovered where other people can look at it. Can I press you against the lockers and ravish you, so that they all know you're _mine_?"

Kurt's breath quickened a little, but he kept his careful distance. It was McKinley. It wouldn't end well. "I think the fact that I'm basically signed as yours and everyone can see it will have to suffice for now, sorry."

Blaine groaned quietly, but nodded. "I know. But, for the record, I would."

* * *

They didn't have a chance to see more than a glimpse of each other during the next few hours, but by lunchtime, Kart had heard every possible version of "What does it feel like?", "When/How did it appear?", "Is the sex better now?" and "So gays can be soulmates too?" from friends and strangers alike. Reports from Tina revealed that Blaine had fared similarly. In general, most of the comments and reactions were nice and curious, no hostility. Even people he'd never spoken to smiled at him after spotting his mark.

Well, it was one more thing that made him stick out – even with more people sporting new marks after the summer, there were only three other matched couples at McKinley that he knew of. Kurt wondered how it would affect his chances in the elections.

Blaine was already waiting for him when Kurt went out of his last class before lunch, and Kurt didn't miss his barely-aborted lean in for a kiss. Suddenly emboldened, he did something he'd wanted to do from the moment Blaine transferred: he took his boyfriend's hand, right in the crowded hallway, to walk with him like all the other couples did. Such a simple thing, and yet, for them, so very special.

There were always going to be people who considered their relationship wrong or unnatural. And maybe even the marks wouldn't convince them otherwise, no matter how many more scientists admitted that the phenomenon did look like some sort of "natural selection of the most optimal partners". But even those few who looked at them with new eyes today were an improvement, a step forward in acceptance. And Kurt was done hiding, refraining from every tiny gesture than might be considered wrong by those who didn't like what they were. Sure, flaunting their affection in public was still a risky idea, considering where they lived, but he would hold hands with his boyfriend – his _soulmate_ – if he wanted to, dammit. He would sit with him and touch his shoulder, and smile at him, real and intimate, instead of constantly being on lookout. And if he became the senior class president, he would do all that he could to make this school a safer place. For them, for others that were different, for everyone.

_Courage_, that was it. Starting here, now.

They were greeted with a few whistles and whoops when they got to the table occupied by the Glee members in the cafeteria, their hands swinging between them. Lunch was a joyous affair today, with jokes and teasing, and a guessing game about who in their little group would be the next person marked, and when, and with what name. Would there be more matched couples? With Sam and Lauren gone, and Rachel and Finn broken up, the only unmarked couple left (though they would deny _being_ a couple, no matter what everyone knew) were Santana and Brittany.

The relaxed mood around the table shattered when Finn dropped his hamburger onto the tray with a scowl.

"Seriously, can't we talk about anything else? Soulmates and soulmates, it's like this is the only topic now."

Kurt arched his eyebrows. Finn had been in a bad mood since booty camp yesterday, avoiding him all evening and leaving early in the morning, but this was the first time he actually spoke about it.

"What's your problem, Finn?"

The full force of Finn's frown was now directed at Kurt and, by extension, Blaine sitting by his side.

"My _problem_ is that apparently my own brother has had one of those stupid marks for over half a year and didn't even tell me."

"Finn, we kept it a secret because my parents–" Blaine was trying to placate him with his calm, rational voice, but Kurt already knew it would be no use. He was right.

"I'm not asking you, Blaine. I'm talking to my brother here, if you don't mind."

Kurt bristled. "Finn, I don't see why you're so angry about it, but whatever the reason–"

"Don't _Finn_ me, Kurt. Sure I'm angry. Why shouldn't I be? First, I'm not a good enough boyfriend because I don't have the right _name_. Then _your_ boyfriend transfers and immediately tries to take control and do things his way, like we're his precious Warblers–"

Next to Kurt, Blaine frowned. "What? I never–"

"– and now I learn I'm not even trustworthy enough to be told important things by my own family. So yeah, sorry, I'm a little bit annoyed." Kurt opened his mouth to say something, explain somehow, but Finn held up his hands. "No, Kurt, save it. I don't want to hear it." He grabbed his bag and stormed out, leaving his unfinished food.

There was uncomfortable silence around the table in the wake of Finn's exit. Santana was the first to recover.

"Well, that was awkward. I for one am really glad Prince Charming here joined us. More cute meat to ogle, and he sure can sing. His moves are much better than Franketeen's, too."

Somehow, no one felt in the mood to joke anymore. The rest of the meal passed in uncomfortable silence.

* * *

"I'm sorry about Finn. I'm sure he'll come around."

They were sitting in Lima Bean that afternoon, barely able to move after another exhausting round of booty camp. Finn had kept away from them all day after his earlier outburst, still clearly simmering, and Kurt couldn't stop thinking about his words, feeling increasingly guilty. Maybe they should have handled it differently, should have told him. Then again, Finn couldn't keep a secret if he tried.

Blaine shrugged, and winced when the move jostled his strained muscles. "It's okay. I just didn't realize I was doing anything wrong."

"You aren't. Finn's irrational, I don't know what bit him. No, okay, I do know, he's still not over Rachel, but it's not an excuse. Do you want me to talk to him?"

Blaine shook his head and swallowed some coffee. "No. I will do it myself in a few days if he's still mad. Anyway, I wanted to ask – Kurt, what's with the presidential stuff?"

Kurt blushed. "Oh, I've been meaning to talk to you about it, actually. I wanted to ask if you'd do me the honor of being my campaign manager. You could help me with phrasing my campaign, I would even let you design the posters, including taking the pictures if you wanted."

Blaine smiled. "Of course, I'll be glad to help, but I mean, what happened to make you run? I didn't even know you were interested in the school political stage."

"I didn't know either, to be honest." Kurt sighed. He couldn't talk about this without touching another subject that he'd hoped to postpone. Oh well. "I just. I've been thinking about college. I mean, I should get into Ohio State easily, but then next year when I apply to Julliard to go to New York with you? I don't have that many achievements, no extracurriculars except for Glee, and the competition there will be much harder. So I thought I should do what I can this year, while I still can. And besides winning Nationals, which I can't guarantee on my own, and starring in a school play, which I still hope to do if it works out this year, the presidency was the only thing I came up with. Plus, I believe I can really do some good for this school with the campaign I have. Let me tell you–"

"Kurt." Blaine said softly, touching his hand to stop his monologue. "Come on, you're not going to Ohio State."

Kurt expected discussion, but this? His jaw dropped a little. "But... I can't go to New York yet, not next year, not without you."

"You can't or you don't want to?"

"I... both? I want to go to New York – you know how much I do, but I don't want to leave you here, I can't–"

Blaine shook his head with a smile that was just this side of sad. "Sure you can. It will be hard, for both of us, but I don't want you to put your life on hold for me. We'll survive, it's only a school year. And there are weekends and holidays and breaks. We'll be fine."

Kurt felt his eyes prickle. God, he _wanted_ New York. But not seeing Blaine every day? "But we're _soulmates_, we're not supposed to be apart!"

Blaine stroked the top of his hand with his thumb. "Why, because Tina says so? Come on, let _us_ be the ones who decide what we are and aren't supposed to do with our relationship. These are _our _lives, _our_ decisions. I wish you had talked to me about this, you know. Weren't we supposed to communicate?"

Kurt bit his lip. "I thought it would be easier if I just... decided."

Blaine squeezed his hand. "I know. But I want to be in on such big things that affect both of us. And I don't want you to sacrifice your dreams for me. Apply to Julliard, Kurt. Go and be amazing, and find all the best places to show me when I visit, and then a year later I will join you and we'll rent a tiny apartment together, and we'll make up for all the time apart, and we'll never separate for that long again. Okay?"

The tears were flowing now, but Kurt didn't even care. He had the best boyfriend in the world. "Okay."


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **_Thank you to everyone still following this story even though I've been slower with the updates lately. It's far from over – there is still about 1/3 of the boys' history to tell – but I intend for it to be completed by the time season 5 rolls around at the end of August. So it's going to be a busy summer of much more frequent updates. _

_But before that happens, there may be 3 or even 4 weeks of silence before chapter 21 is posted, while I focus on writing the sequel to _Let's Play Pretend_ and post a new big (completed) story that I've worked on for about a year (it's called _Collateral Damage_, it has a TON of warnings and I'll probably start posting it in a day or two). I'm not saying this break will definitely happen – I may get inspired and do the next chapter earlier anyway – but I wanted to give you a heads-up just in case._

_Now on to the chapter :)_

* * *

**CHAPTER 20**

Campaigning for president was hard work, it turned out. Especially since Brittany had decided to join the race, claiming that the school politics needed more girl power – and, for some reason, unicorns. Her posters were a colorful chaos of glitter and rainbows, and her campaign pretty vague, but she managed to get the feminine part of the school population interested. Winning was going to be much trickier now than just outtalking and outsmarting Rick the Stick.

Kurt had been so busy with the campaign that he didn't have much time to actually think about his college applications. Yes, he'd told Blaine he would go to New York. But saying it and actually taking the first steps were two different things. He needed some time for the decision to settle in his mind and his heart. He needed to spend some time with this thought, a few quiet hours by himself, to feel it, deep within – to see himself in New York without his soulmate, and to be certain that this was what he wanted. That they could do that and survive.

It took him over a week and a sleepless night to get there. But then he was ready.

The next day, after first period, he found Rachel in the choir room, sitting alone like she often did these days. Kurt felt a little awkward, approaching her like this after he'd avoided her for days, unwilling to deal with her attitude. But now that he actually looked at her – really looked – it was clear that she hadn't been too well. She didn't look happy as she sat at the piano, her usual manic determination and endless energy gone, and it suddenly struck Kurt that she must have been pretty lonely. Not many people managed to stand Rachel Berry on a daily basis, let alone get close to her. Without Finn or Kurt, she didn't really have close friends.

Rachel noticed him hovering in the doorway and sent him a ghost of a smile.

"Hi Kurt. What are you doing here? Where's Blaine?"

Kurt walked closer and leaned against the piano. "I left him talking with Santana. She's ridiculously fond of him... well, in her own way at least. I wanted to talk to you alone."

"Why?" She looked surprised. Kurt took a deep breath.

"I'm going to Julliard after all. Or at least applying. The point is... I'm still going to New York. We can still go together, we can live together like we planned, we can–"

Rachel was shaking her head. "I'd love to, Kurt, but... Julliard doesn't have a musical theater department."

Kurt felt as if the earth tilted under his feet. "Wait, what?"

They've been planning it for so long; it was always going to be Julliard! Now what?

Rachel sighed. "I spoke with Miss Pillsbury. She suggested a different city, but when I told her I wouldn't settle for anything less than New York, she told me about another school. Have you ever heard of NYADA?"

Kurt shook his head.

"It's the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts, apparently the best school in the country for musical theatre. But it's pretty exclusive, and they only take about twenty students a year." She looked grim. Kurt smiled at her.

"Oh. That's settled then – we just apply there, right? I mean, Julliard, NYADA, no big difference – it was always going to be the best acting school in New York, and we knew it wouldn't be easy."

"Kurt, you don't understand. The competition is going to be _crazy_. I actually went to a mixer they hold for prospective students last week and... Kurt, the people there were _phenomenal_. As good as us – _better_ than us! And they all have credentials – like, _in utero _credentials. Multiple roles, and not just in school productions, either. We stand no chance with them."

Kurt's heart sank a little, but he just stood up taller, his usual reaction whenever someone told him he couldn't do something or be something he wanted.

"Then we'll have to work harder, make our applications better. Come on, don't tell me you're giving up? There's still time. We'll just have to make sure the musical happens this year for a change, and then we can star in it. And you have plenty of clubs and activities to put on your resume, and I will hopefully have the presidency, and then we're going to win Nationals with the Glee club. We're going to get in, Rachel. Both of us. NYADA, beware – here we come."

Rachel laughed wetly through the tears that were running down her cheeks. She jumped up from the piano bench to pull Kurt into a tight hug.

"Oh I missed you. I'm sorry I was a bad friend before. I'm so happy for you and Blaine, I really am, and I can't wait to be in New York with you. You're right, it was never going to be easy but following your dreams never is. Come on, let's find the best musical we could propose."

* * *

Blaine was worried. Between Brittany gaining in the presidential polls and the NYADA news, Kurt had been increasingly stressed these last few days, so much so that Blaine could literally feel it radiating from him whenever they were in the same room. He was doing whatever he could to be the supportive, comforting counterbalance in Kurt's life, and most of the time, it worked. But now that West Side Story had been approved and the auditions started tomorrow, Blaine wasn't sure what to do.

He wanted to audition for Tony. It was a dream role for him, and he wanted to at least try to put himself in those shoes, even if it was just for that one moment on stage. But then he'd have to audition against Kurt. He wouldn't be the only one, either. He'd heard two sophomores talking excitedly about trying out for Tony during lunch – not that they posed a serious threat, from what Blaine saw of their acting. But Blaine knew how auditions worked, how subjective cast decisions could be. And if he happened to win the lead – how could he take it from Kurt, when it meant so much for his college application?

No, it was better if he didn't try at all. Or he could just audition for the role of Bernardo. Or Baby John. Or Diesel. Whichever, really, even just Officer Krupke. He would get a lead next year, when he would need as many distractions and time-fillers as possible, anyway, not to mention achievements to add to his own NYADA application.

But even after he'd made his decision, it kept niggling at his mind, like an annoying grain of sand.

* * *

"You're not trying for Tony?" Kurt asked, surprised, when Blaine told him about his audition plans that afternoon, on the way to their cars after booty camp. Blaine shrugged.

"No. Tony is–" _yours_, he wanted to say, but it didn't feel right. "I don't want Tony," he said instead.

The way Kurt looked at him – as if he was about to call him out on the lie – made Blaine shuffle his feet uncomfortably and dig in his bag for the car keys that had been in his hand all along. Was he that transparent? Or was it yet another thing their marks were causing now, the inability to lie to each other?

But Kurt just looked away after a moment, straightening the strap of his bag. "Oh. Okay."

They drove to Kurt's house and Kurt steered the conversation to campaign matters as soon as they entered, and everything felt almost like any other afternoon. Almost, because there was barely noticeable tension in the air until Blaine went home that night – unspoken words, a hint of unease.

By the time they met again in the morning, it was gone. Kurt seemed more affectionate than ever all day, holding Blaine's hand whenever they were together and whispering sweet nothings into his ear until Blaine blushed and bit his lip to resist kissing him. So he pushed away the concern that had stayed with him all night, and focused on Kurt's hand in his, and Kurt's excitement about his afternoon audition. He did the right thing – he made Kurt happy, spared him additional stress. It was the right decision.

* * *

Blaine could barely wait until Kurt got off the stage after his audition before grabbing his hand and pulling him away towards the parking lot. God, Kurt's moves, the flexibility of his sinuous body up on the scaffolding, the play of the muscles in his arms – watching it had driven Blaine crazy, and there was no way he could do what he really, _really _had to do anywhere at school. They needed privacy.

"Blaine, what–"

He whipped around to look at Kurt, never letting go of his gloved hand. "Please tell me we'll have a moment alone."

Kurt laughed breathlessly. "No one will be home until dinner. So you can slow down and let me take off the gloves at least."

"No! Don't." He swallowed convulsively and spoke softer. "Please don't take them off. Don't change anything." The gloves, the way Kurt's hands moved when he twirled the sais... Blaine could suddenly think of a dozen other uses for those dexterous fingers.

Kurt arched his eyebrows with a knowing smirk. "Ooh. You like my outfit?"

"I like _you_. In this outfit, too, yes."

Kurt grinned and tugged at Blaine's hand. "Better hurry then, if we need that time."

* * *

Kurt barely made three steps towards the bed when Blaine stopped him with an arm wound around his waist, a hand splayed wide over Kurt's stomach pressing him back into Blaine's body. Kurt hummed softly when he felt Blaine's erection against his ass.

"Mm. Eager."

Blaine kissed his way roughly down the side of Kurt's neck to the crook of his shoulder, hot and still sweaty.

"I've been hard since the beginning of your performance." He sucked on the thin skin, causing Kurt's hips to stutter back. Kurt's voice was higher already.

"Blaine... bed, please. Come on."

"No. Stay like this, don't move." And with that, Blaine did what he'd been craving from the moment Kurt first turned his back during his performance, showing the red strings tied up the high waist of Kurt's pants.

He slid down to his knees, his body still flush with Kurt's back, his hands smoothing down Kurt's chest, his stomach, his thighs. And then he took the end of one of the strings in his teeth – and pulled.

Kurt gasped. "Oh my god, what are you–"

The rest of his question was lost in a quiet moan as Blaine finished loosening the ties. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband over Kurt's hips, tugging lightly until the pants dropped to the floor – a nice benefit of them being so loose this time. And then Kurt stood there in his shirt and black briefs clinging to the delicious curves of his ass. The perspective was perfect – Kurt's legs seemed even longer, his shapely behind right at eye level – and Blaine wondered why he'd never thought about doing this before.

He couldn't resist kissing his way up the sensitive back of Kurt's knee to his thigh and higher, until he was sucking and nipping at the swell of Kurt's ass along the edge of his briefs, his fingers dipping shallowly under the soft cotton. Kurt shivered when Blaine reached around him to find his cock, already hard and straining in the confines of his underwear. Blaine took a moment to enjoy the whisper of the fabric under his stroking hand, the warmth of it under his lips where Kurt's muscles shifted and pressed involuntarily into his touch.

By the time Blaine pulled the briefs down, there was a wet spot forming on the front and Kurt was letting out soft, high little moans. His knees buckled when Blaine's hand finally encircled the shaft of his cock, Blaine's teeth gently grazing the skin of his ass cheek.

"Blaine–"

Blaine hummed against the supple skin, his hand stroking slowly. "Mm. Do you have any idea what you did to me during this performance? You were gorgeous out there, with the scaffolding and the sais, and your voice, god, you'll be perfect as Tony."

Kurt gasped out a surprised laugh. "Yeah?"

"Definitely." Blaine kissed his way closer to the crack of Kurt's ass and traced the tip of his tongue, feather-light, up the divide.

Kurt whimpered. "What are you doing?"

Blaine pulled away, tracing with his fingers instead. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No." It was barely more than a whisper.

Blaine kissed him again, a teasing dance of his tongue not an inch from the cleft. "I just... the way you moved, you're so flexible, Kurt, and your hips–" He squeezed his free hand over the hard bone of Kurt's left hip. "Fuck, I can't stop thinking about other situations now. Other times where you would move like this." His right hand sped up a little and Kurt moaned loudly, his gloved hands tangling in his own hair for lack of purchase.

"Tell me." Kurt panted out.

"Like... your hips moving like that when... when you're in me."

Kurt whimpered, his hips snapping forward to fuck faster into Blaine's fist, and in a moment of boldness, Blaine sucked two fingers into his mouth, barely resisting rubbing his aching erection against Kurt's calf. He slipped his slick fingers down the crack of Kurt's ass until his fingertip slid over the tight bud of Kurt's hole.

They'd never done this before, not yet. Blaine couldn't hold in a moan. "Or... or you riding me, my cock so deep in you, just... there." He rubbed tiny, feverish circles around the opening.

He hoped it wasn't too much, that Kurt wouldn't jerk away. What he never expected was Kurt actually pressing against his hand until Blaine's slick fingertip was breaching him, just a little. Then a little more, to the first knuckle, and then Kurt was just fucking himself faster and faster between Blaine's grip and his finger dipping shallowly into Kurt's hole and holy shit, Blaine could come just from the sounds Kurt made and the hot squeeze of his muscles. His fingertip was suddenly the most sensitive part of his body.

Kurt was close, his movements increasingly erratic, his fingers still tugging at his own hair.

"I want to." He gasped. "Fuck, Blaine, I do. Soon."

Blaine had to bite down on the firm flesh of Kurt's ass, the rush of the promise almost too much to bear. Which didn't really help, considering that Kurt came with a cut off cry a few seconds later, the wave of his release and the clench of his hole pulling Blaine along like a tide.

* * *

Blaine still felt like he was floating a few feet above ground the next day in school. Nothing had changed, not really, and yet it seemed like a huge step had been taken, one that made the air between him and Kurt charged and electric, and kept Blaine in the state of lingering arousal all day because... _soon_.

He literally bounced to the auditorium that afternoon and had to firmly tell himself a few times that _Something Coming_ was _not_ a song about his sex life before he could come up on stage and keep a straight face instead of breaking out into an insane grin. Kurt wasn't in the audience yet – he had to urgently talk to Rachel, although Blaine had no idea why discussing _Romeo and Juliet _couldn't wait until tomorrow – and Blaine felt a little pang of disappointment, but he got over it quickly. He wasn't here to serenade Kurt, after all.

The audition went smoothly. Being on stage was a feeling incomparable to anything else for Blaine, and being the only one there this time, no background singers or dancers, just the orchestra, was a delicious kind of thrill. He'd almost forgotten how special it felt after his year with the Warblers, where he'd always been a part of the team. Adrenaline bubbled happily in his veins, he felt _alive_, like he was one with the song, his body and voice in perfect harmony, his focus undivided. Finishing the performance felt like resurfacing after a long deep dive, the ovation he received like a breath of sweet fresh air. Oh, he was _so _going to get Bernardo.

He was almost off the stage when Artie's voice stopped him.

"Wait. Would you mind reading for Tony?"

There was just a split second of hesitation, Blaine's heart jumping up before his brain had time to engage, but it was gone in a flash. He was shaking his head already when the hurt registered, bright and deep in his mind. Disappointment. Betrayal.

Kurt was here.

"I'm sorry, but no. I'm not interested in the role of Tony." Blaine couldn't see their faces, blinded with the bright stage lights, but he heard the surprised murmurs.

Then Kurt's voice cut loud and clear through the acoustics of the room. "Blaine, it's okay. Do it."

The voice came from the side, maybe one of the balconies, and again he couldn't see Kurt's face, but the flash of emotions radiating from him was gone now. Still, Blaine shook his head. "Kurt–"

"Read for Tony. It's fine." That edge of finality was something Blaine knew very well and had long learned not to argue with. Still hesitant, he looked at the trio in front of him.

"I... okay, I guess I could try."

It didn't take much to shake off the initial discomfort and slip seamlessly into the role. But when he finished fifteen minutes later, Kurt was gone. He wasn't in any of the balconies or backstage, or outside the auditorium. By the time Blaine got out into the parking lot, he already knew Kurt's car wouldn't be there.

* * *

"I won't take the role if they offer." Blaine said as soon as the door opened.

Kurt just shook his head and moved aside to let him in. His face was calm, but there was just a hint of red in his eyes that told Blaine everything.

"Can we not talk about it today?" Kurt asked quietly.

"But I don't have to, really–"

"Please. Not today."

Blaine nodded, resigned. "Okay. Do you want to watch a movie?"

* * *

They still didn't talk about the play the next day at school. Kurt was in a somber mood, a little absent from the moment they met by his locker in the morning, and then Brittany's surprise performance during lunch electrified the school and shattered the rest of Kurt's composure. They spent the rest of the day watching the poll results shift and discussing countermeasures that could still be taken, and by the time Blaine came home that night, his heart ached. This was really getting to Kurt.

He fell asleep trying to think of ways to comfort his boyfriend and improve his mood – ways that didn't necessarily include sex.

So when Kurt found him on the staircase the next morning, with a smile and a bouquet of roses in his hand, it felt as if he'd stepped in from another story entirely. And when his smile didn't falter, his eyes warm as he told Blaine what he'd learned from his mole in the casting office, Blaine didn't really know what to say. Before he could decide between blushing at the compliments (and he hadn't thought Kurt had stayed long enough to see that he "killed his audition") and ensuring him that he wasn't going to take the role anyway (which seemed kind of rude after Kurt's words), Kurt did one more completely unexpected thing.

He kissed him.

Right in the middle of the staircase, with people milling around and half the school on the courtyard below, Kurt pulled him close and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Blaine's lips. And then he took Blaine's free hand and led him down to one of the unoccupied benches in a quiet corner of the courtyard.

It was only when they were seated that Blaine spoke.

"Thank you. But you know I'm not going to take this role, even if they do give it to me. It's yours; I can have a lead next year."

Kurt shook his head. "No, you're going to take it. I don't want you to hold back because of me. If we're both going to be performers, it's inevitable we will be competitors sometimes. We'll have to learn to navigate it, and this is as good a moment as any. Better, even, while we're still in high school."

"But your NYADA application–" Blaine frowned.

"I'll have to manage without it. Don't worry. Besides, they won't take me as Tony anyway. I'm..." Kurt's voice broke minutely and he cleared his throat. "Apparently I'm too much of a lady."

Blaine gasped. "You're not!"

Kurt shrugged, looking at his shoes. "It was a quote. I overheard them talking before your audition. I just don't pass well enough. I 'don't excite the lady parts', as they phrased it." He forced out a humorless laugh, and Blaine felt anger spike high and hot.

"God, how can they even say something like that?"

Kurt looked at him with a shadow of a smile and took his hand. "It's alright. I'm mostly used to people saying those things. It's just that usually they're not teachers, you know? So it got to me a little. But I'm fine now. I want you to take this role and be awesome, okay?"

With such sincerity in Kurt's eyes, all Blaine could do was intertwine their fingers and nod.

* * *

Kurt was sure his bad luck must be over now. Between the Julliard fiasco, Brittany as a surprise opponent and the Tony audition, these last few weeks were rough and left him with a painful lack of control over his own endeavors. But it should be better now. It was his senior year, after all, and it was supposed to be magic, with Blaine here at McKinley and everything. Life was bound to give him a break now.

Except life clearly hadn't gotten the memo.

During the next week Brit kept gaining in the polls no matter how hard Kurt worked on getting his anti-bullying message out to people. The funding for the musical was cut, forcing him to convince his father to help them out – with some unexpected consequences for his family when the blowup with Coach Sue somehow led to his dad deciding to run for Congress.

But the hardest hit came from a completely unexpected direction: Rachel, panicked after her "Maria-off" with Mercedes, decided to join the presidential race. No matter that she didn't have anything interesting to offer the school if she won, or that she didn't really need this particular point in her application, or even that she knew how much Kurt _did _need it, in comparison.

It was the last straw, the final blow in a friendship that had already been so challenged lately, and it hurt. It really did.

"Rachel, in ten years when you look back at this time, you're not gonna be thinking about the clubs you belonged to or the roles you had. You'll be thinking about the friends you had and the ones you just tossed aside."

He left her standing by the lockers alone, and didn't look back once.

He'd have to find another roommate in New York, after all.

The cast list went up on Friday. Blaine got Tony. Maria was double-casted between Rachel and Mercedes.

Kurt got Officer Krupke.

He hugged his boyfriend and tried his very, very best not to let the disappointment show on his face.

* * *

Blaine got up the stairs and looked around, breathing in the smell of old wood and floor polish. It felt like home – like the place you left at some point and only visited on holidays and vacations, bringing back fond memories. He smiled and followed the well-known path to the senior commons, where the Warblers would be practicing right now. The wad of West Side Story tickets were stuffed in his pocket.

He didn't regret leaving Dalton. He was adapting well in his new school despite his initial worries, his relationship with Kurt was solid, going even further than ever, and he'd just gotten the lead in the school musical.

Life was really damn good.


End file.
